mr. hogan

I am ridiculously, insanely proud of my husband. A lot of people, including me, give him quite a bit of grief for the crazy person that he is. He's anal and orderly and when he gives himself to something, he gives himself completely, no exceptions. No excuses. He's loyal and witty and likes things to be logical. Or funny. As much as I like to give him crap for all his idiosyncrasies (see post below), I am so proud of the man that he is. I look up to him as my best friend and my protector and when I look at him my heart just swells with immense love for him.
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For the last year, pretty much without fail, he's been getting up at 6 am on the weekdays so that he can work out before he has to go to work (reference; unfailing commitment). For most of that time I've been giving him a mumbled "love you" as I roll over in bed and sleep for another hour. I prefer to do my exercising when the sun is up. But for the last couple weeks I've decided to give into his begging to go to bed and wake up with him (if anyone knows me at all they know going to bed before 10 and getting up at 6 is not in my nature). But in an effort to spend more time with this man that I love so dearly, I now enjoy the sleeping schedule of a retiree.
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Why do I say all this? Because this morning as we are leaving the gym, my husband is leaving for work and wearing his uniform. Something as seemingly normal as this immediately tugs at my heart. I'm a sentimental girl. When I see him ready in the morning to go fly an airplane, I start to think about what a good, honest, hard working man he is. How much he has accomplished and what we have yet to accomplish together. How thankful I am for everything that he does for me and how blessed I feel that God has allowed me to spend my time here on earth with such an amazing person. And I love him even more when he brings home 37 boxes of cereal from the grocery store.