She was attractive – tall, a redhead, and slender.
Like a flower in a greenhouse, peeking down the road, she had flagged down the passing motorist.
That’s when the nightmare began.
Now she stood in a long line of mostly women in a hallway running past courtrooms. At the very end of that tunnel comprised of concrete blocks was a sign that read, “Domestic Violence.”
This is the purgatory where women came to file restraining orders.
Then the young woman turned around.
Blunt force trauma had turned the left side of her face into a black and blue bruise, that surrounded a puddle of purple swelling around her barely opened eye.
She did not smile – perhaps could not smile – as it likely hurt too much. As much from the memory as from the injury.
I glanced at her huddled shape – her shoulders drawn close, head bowed, her head bowed to hide her face. I wondered if I should say something – anything – to express my sympathy.
A moment later her name was called, and she was gone.
Husbands?
We have one job.
One.
To have an imPACTful marriage.
To convey to our wife every day that she is Precious, Adored, Cherished and Treasured.
Every day.
How?
By giving of your time.
By listening with your heart.
By sharing your words of affirmation.
By such inexpensive but so impactful ways love is conveyed.
Every day.
