When men are men

This afternoon Noah, Jeff and I explored the depths of our manhood while our wives were out at a party.  We worked in the yard.  We sweat.  We got filthy.  We used power tools.  We talked about our weaknesses.

 I love these men.  I love their honesty.  I love their desire to be good men.  I love that they are trying to learn how to love their wives better.  I love that I can laugh with them, share a quiet moment of sadness, or chop the hell out of a piece of old fence-board.  I love that they don't act like they need to prove anything to the world.  They are who they are.  At times they are passionate- other times calm and borderline lazy (okay, we're all a bit lazy!).  At times they are hilariously funny-- other times they are compassionate and thoughtful.  They love God, but don't settle for a "cookie cutter" faith that Christendom tries to place on them.  They have much life in them.  Life that feeds my soul.

They help to remind me that

it's

good

to

be

a

man.

And, for some reason, black widows are fun to spit on.