Some things are never said enough. Some things are never said at all. Things like, “I respect you and your leadership.” Or, “I think the way you defend my honor is an incredible reflection of the heart of my Savior”. Or simply, “You’re a dreamboat and my heart skips a beat when you walk in the room.”
Those things aren’t said nearly enough to the wonderful men in my circle of friends. So born out of a desire to let them know just how incredible they are, we spent two weeks concocting. And maybe I enjoyed the planning process a little too much – after all, my other dream is to be an events planner. The combination of nights spent with a pen in one hand and a vanilla porter in the other, humid afternoons of treasure hunting to find the right kind of twine and parchment paper and burlap, and a bustling kitchen with at least six women nearly dying from either laughter or sharp kitchen utensils finally led up to this:
First came pride in our accomplishments. Then came wonder at the perfect lighting of the setting sun and the smoke from the fire that engulfed the table in a warm, hazy glow. Then came joy, simple and full. My friends were all there, all ridiculously attractive as always, and all happy. I was immediately intoxicated, but not from the sangria as most would expect. No, it was simply intoxication due to overflowing joy.
The farther we’ve gotten from that day, the more I’ve realized that these men aren’t just “great”. They are one-of-a-kind. And who would blame me for comparing the other men I meet to the studs that I call my friends? I can’t help it – and the others never measure up. You’d be privileged to know them, but they’d probably constantly tell you it’s the other way around. It’s just the kind of people they are.
I’m many miles away tonight, but I’m thinking of and thanking God for my men. They’re not perfect, but they certainly are incredible. I’ll cobbler to that.