Here I am, sitting in a hotel room more than 9,000 miles from my home in Tennessee, and I should be spending the evening reviewing and refreshing the material I plan to teach about 50 pastors tomorrow morning.
But I’m not. Instead, here I am listening to music that just reminds me how much I’m missing my wife. Don’t get me wrong, I love (and miss) my children. But my wife? My woman? My helpmeet? My love? What’s to compare?
The love for a wife you can’t believe agreed to marry you more than 20 years ago because even you weren’t sure what you were going to have to offer. The love for a woman who has in those years made it clear that she always knew you were the one. The love for a friend, lover and more because with rings between you, well, you can, and you should.
My wife? She’s worth everything to me, and only a fool would squander the gift I’ve been given. So when I see her again in about two weeks, picking me up from the same airport where she left me, I’ll be home again once I feel those sweet arms of hers around me.