This is the man who has crawled after he collapsed.
This is the man, who stayed when he could go.
This is the man who daily fights just to stand under the crushing weight of my story – of our story.
This is the boy, the little orphan, who bravely struggles to be a good father and know the Father.
This is the man whose feet are daily shod; by work boots worn, from the relentless running; running to serve, running to provide, running to protect, running to care.
This is the man, who works with his hands, thinks with his head and gives with his heart.
This is the man that looked long in the shattered mirror of his own reflection; who gripped the shards with shaking hands and and build it again in His image.
This… this is the man I love.