Tuesday, June 24, 2008
No, this isn't some awful confession, so no freaking out allowed.
I just really like a man's man. Why? Maybe it's because I miss my little-boy-all-grown-up who used to investigate everything and collect "stuff." Curiosity was his middle name. From the year he "footprinted" toads to mark the growth, to the year he build a rope fort in the treetops, to the year he traveled to Mexico, I have delighted in his love for learning and desire to uncover how things work.
Some of my fondest memories involve wrestling matches between Rob and Jordan. Wrestling matches that rocked the foundation and broke a few odds and ends. At the time I never expected to look back with fondness and longing. Go figure.
I miss my little brothers, too. Maybe "guys" just bring out the kid in me. I didn't have sisters, and as much as I fought with my brothers, I have some great memories. Most of them center around injuries, which you all know has shaped me into the twisted individual I am today.
Rob is a hunter. I hate the idea of him killing Bambi, but I know the act of slogging through the near-virgin woods energizes him. I don't fish either, I'll hold a pole, poke around at things, sure, but I don't long for it. But I love to watch him fish. And work. There is raw beauty in my man as he sweats and subdues his surroundings.
I love the way a man's brain works, linear and to-the-point. Not that this quality hasn't sent me over the edge a time or two, but generally, a guy's mind, when passionate about a subject, is an amazing instrument.
Maybe I love guys because in their live-out loud moments they are scarfing life and embracing who God created them to be. Master of their domain, learning, growing, subduing and righting wrongs. A man in his element is alive and glorious and a thing of beauty.
Don't even get me started on a man who loves God.