So tonight in the shower, the scab on my knee broke open and started bleeding. I went to put a band-aid on it, and dropped it on the floor. The cover was still on it, so I used it anyway, though I had a moment's doubt about the wisdom of doing so.
Two minutes later, I heard my husband call out, 'You better not be using a band-aid that fell on the floor.'
I went back to the bathroom, took off the first band-aid, doused my knee with peroxide and put a fresh band-aid on it.
I am not sure how my husband knew that the first bandage fell on the floor. Perhaps his hearing is just that acute. Perhaps I was muttering louder than I thought I was. Perhaps it was simply instinct, because he knows me very well.
Whatever the reason, my husband cares about me, even in the very small things like a scrape on my knee. God is the same way. He is watching over me, and cares if my scrapes get infected or my shoes get wet in the rain. God cares about the little things.
And that is rather nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment