She sings to our youngest daughter before bed.

She wears a cute dress to church.

She takes walks with me at night, and looks up into my eyes and smiles.

She asks, “What shirt would you like ironed?”

She reviews Bible memory verses with the kids.

We bump into each other in our small bathroom as she dries her hair and I brush my teeth.

She watches Hallmark movies.

She submits to me, follows me, encourages me as I have taken her across the country following a mission of ministry.

She grows her hair out.

She plans meals for the week.

She beautifies our little seminary apartment.

She cultivates a home.

She buys little bins to stack laundry in our small closet.

She has a feminine intuition that I need to hear as I make family decisions.

She walks with me to class and sits next to me. Sometimes I lean over to glance at her notes.

When she sleeps, her eyes are adorned with the most beautiful eyelashes.

She wants to be a grandmother someday.

She loves her parents.

She is discerning, and gravitates to sound teaching.

She listens to podcasts of godly women as she folds laundry.

She puts on CityAlight and sings as she does the dishes.

She insisted on having a large table to have families over for dinner.

She gets up early and runs two miles.

She is emotional in ways I rarely am, and cries over injustice.

She loves reading historical fiction and Challies Challenge books.

She listens to a sermon and takes notes in the loveliest of handwriting.

She discusses its expository merits afterward.

She laughs easily. I have always loved making her laugh.

She pursues a quiet, gentle spirit as the world harangues her.

She is quick to forgive me. If not immediately, then within a day.

She asks for forgiveness the next morning after a night of conflict.

She wants peace.

She gently encourages me to soften when I am caustic with the kids.

She asks me nearly every day how my day was, and genuinely wants to know, even if I am in the technical weeds of something hard to explain.

She rarely is distracted by online quarreling.

She looks for an older woman at church to teach her godly femininity and mothering.

She wears cute, soft shoes.

She speaks kindly to the neighborhood kids that show up at our door.

She is careful with our money.

She surprises me with new ways to organize shoes

She pops open a laptop on the counter to try a new recipe.

She puts to death the Old Stacia in her, and lives out the new in Christ.

She is utterly, 100% faithful to me, and I have never, not even once had any reason to think she has eyes on another man.

She reads her Bible out on the dining room table.

She loves to dance ballet.

She buys her kids way too many gifts for Christmas, and stays up late wrapping.