His hands are rough. Callused and scratchy.
When the weather causes cracks, he uses superglue to meld the skin back together. He can grip ice cold wrenches and with just the strength of his arm, break rusted together bolts.
We were dating the first time I saw him lift the front end of a tractor. I thought maybe it was lighter than it looked. It wasn’t.
It was not a gushing girl ploy when I said, in awe, “I can’t believe how strong you are.” I was just being honest. But he shrugged, “My dad was stronger than I am and his dad was stronger yet.”
It’s not strength built by lifting weights and working out. It is built by hours of hard labor.
I love his strength.
I love that he always treats me with gentleness.
I love that anytime I need his strength, he gladly and freely gives it.
I love that his rough and callused hands are mine to hold. His muscled arms are mine to snuggle under.
I love that when he is near, I feel safe and protected and cared for.
There are many types of strength. How does your husband demonstrate his to you?