She brought me a toothbrush, and a clean pair of yoga pants. And underwear.
She didn’t ask if I needed some skivvies before schlepping across town to hug her friend at the hospital. Obviously, asking someone “Do you need some underwear?” will always be an awkward question, no matter how close you might be. Instead, she walked around her own quiet house at dawn, and asked herself: “What might someone wish for after two all-nighters in the hospital?” This is how you do love.
He came and prayed.
He didn’t ask if he should come. Despite knowing he’d battle rush-hour traffic, and would likely miss morning appointments, he still arrived in the early hours. He opened his Bible, and tenderly read a Psalm that his daddy had read to him as a boy, when he was too scared to sleep. This is how you do love.
If you’re like me, I often don’t do love very well. It’s not for lack of love, or an earnest