from where I stand…

I’m no good at ironing. And yet I iron his shirts. It takes me more time because it’s not something I do well at. Honestly, I don’t enjoy it, but I will always iron his shirts. 

A couple weeks ago, he and his team had to deal with a true monster. The kind of person who does the unthinkable. Someone who hurts kids. 

On those nights, the nights where he sees monsters and has to see the things monsters do in order to do his job…he always comes home with circles under his eyes. He is quieter. He sits with the kids and reads to them a little longer. And then the next day he goes back and does his job again. 

He’s never won an award for what he does, but he wins time. Time where monsters are removed and put away. He always give the credit to the people he works with, they do the right thing, for the right reasons. He is just doing his job. 

But I see him, and I know. 

So often,  I see the time that is taken, when he’s called in or has to do something before it’s too late. The time that adds shadows to his eyes, and grey to his hair. That steals our holidays and nights together. 

And still he goes into work and does the job…where he meets monsters, and the thankless. 

So I iron his shirts, and I pray for his protection. And I thank God for those who face the monsters. Who fight them. 

When I iron…

My lines are never perfect, and it takes a lot of time. But love is an action of sacrifice. My sacrifice isn’t that big. He loves his job…his sacrifice is vast. I can iron his shirts. 

to God be the glory.