I feel like a dork for making 2 posts in one night... however, I think that it's neccesary.
So tonight, Frank came over, even though he wanted to hang out with the boys, to help me move furniture around. He told me that he would, so he did. He shows up and I can tell that he's ready to go and play so I tell him to get the move on. We started to take the grill around the building so that they are by my door... OUCH!! I totally busted my ankle with the grill. I mean there is flesh hanging out of my wound. It was so nasty... and blood everywhere. All over the apartment, all over frank, all over my flipflop.... I know dad, I should have been wearing shoes- shut it!
Frank was amazing, he went into firefighter mode. He got me to the sink where he started cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. I was a mess, I was crying and hooting and holloring. The whole time he was so patient with minimal eye rolling and hushes. He kept saying "I know sugar, I know". We then moved to the couch(which I refer to as torture time!) where he got me cleaned up and bandaged up.
While I'm sure that it is amusing to this of such torture, I think about what a kind person he is. I think that how amazing he is and how gentle his hands are. While they are strong to protect and rough from providing. They are the same kind and gentle hands that cared for me.
It makes me thing of my mighty Lord that has these hand also... He says "Fear not, for I am your God"... how many times a DAY I ignore that. But how many times do I ignore Frank when he shows me that.. NONE! Oh how i am convicted of not trusting and knowing with all my heart!
* I will post a follow up once the nasty part is gone and doesn't make me want to vomit looking at it~