May 1, was my husband’s birthday. Mike is indeed my better half. He is my companion, and my friend. He has been there for me in all the good things in my life, and for the bad. He has a way to make me laugh when I am mad, and to look at the good when things are sad.
My husband has endured a lot of trials in his life; both physical and emotional. A lot of people who have gone through all he has would turn bitter inside and be tempted to give up. Not this man of mine. He turned to God to help him through and keeps taking one step at a time, trusting him to lead us.
This man of mine is a cowboy, a rancher. He loves the outdoors, the wide open spaces that have not been spoiled by the hand of man. If he had his choice that is where he would be now. However, we have been placed in city life for the time being. Not only are we living in town, but in an apartment, with people sharing the same walls on many sides.
Instead of the sound of water rushing over rocks in the creek, elk bugling in the early morning, coyotes howling in the evening, we hear the never-ending roar of car engines, the blast of the train whistle, the screaming sirens of fire engines, ambulances, and police cars, and at night we hear the howling of two-legged critters all around us.
My prayer for this man of mine this year, is that God will bless him and place him back where he belongs. My prayer is John Denver’s song…Country roads, take me home.
This Man Of Mine
This man of mine with western blood
that runs throughout his veins,
is home in that old saddle,
fingers laced with rawhide reins.
He can throw a loop, and catch that calf;
he and Johnny made quite the pair.
They were western class, the two of them,
not many can compare.
They rode desert range in Nevada,
with sagebrush saddle high.
And the mountains of Montana,
where elk and grizzly lie.
That is the life this cowboy loves,
It’s where his heart feels free,
to ride all day where the grass grows tall,
and not a house for eye to see.
This city life we’re living now,
is not for me or him.
Life threw us a real bad curve,
seems at times a tad bit grim.
But God knows the plans he has for us,
and guides us through each day.
He knows we miss the country,
and the smell of fresh-cut hay.
We walk in faith believing
that His purpose we will see.
We pray a country road awaits
for this man of mine and me.
Sheryl Craig Russell