Undone By His Tenderness

There’s a way his eyes settle on me
that no camera could ever fully catch...
soft, steady, like he’s memorizing
the woman he’s loved in every season.

Not just the girl I was at fifteen and sixteen,
and not just the wife I've learned to become...
but the heartbeat, the home,
the safe place we somehow rebuilt
when the world wanted us done.

Thirty-four years of loving him,
nineteen years of finding our way
back into each other’s arms,
and somehow, his eyes still make me feel
like the only woman in the room.

And that look…
that gentle, unguarded look...
it pulls joy out of places in me
I forgot could even breathe.

There’s a tenderness in him
that doesn’t ask for applause,
a strength that doesn’t raise its voice,
a loyalty that sits quietly
but never leaves the room.

And when he looks at me like that,
I feel the history of us....
the storms we have survived,
the laughter that saved us,
the forgiveness that rebuilt us,
the grace God pressed into our hands
when we didn’t know how to hold each other.

His eyes say it all...
I’m here.
I’ve always been here.
I’ll keep choosing you.

And somehow,
no matter how many years pass,
that look still reaches
straight into the deepest part of me....
and reminds my soul
that love can be gentle,
love can be strong,
and love...
real love....when given to God
can last a lifetime
and still keep learning
how to be new.