Day two of my new journey and my connection with god. Again i share with you an entry from my wife journal: The clock read 5:30 PM when he paused. The world, with all its demands and noise, dimmed around him. He set it all aside—emails, errands, distractions—because this moment belonged to God. It was a sacred routine, not out of habit, but out of devotion. With his Bible open and heart steady, he soaked in the words of the day: "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her."
—Ephesians 5:25 He read it again, slower this time. Christ didn’t love with mere words—He gave. Fully. Sacrificially. Intentionally. That was the kind of man he was striving to be. The kind of love he believed in. He wasn’t just dreaming of marriage; he was preparing for it, willing to give his all. Not just flowers and promises, but his heart, his energy, his very life if needed. Marriage, he knew, wasn’t about “what’s in it for me?” It was about service. Selflessness. And he was a man on a mission. And he would not be defeated. Later that evening, at 10:49 PM, he finally sat down, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the entire day with it. Busy? Yes. Productive? Sorta. But fulfilling? Absolutely. The morning had begun with a simple breakfast, nothing too grand, but the thought of seeing his wife had lit a fire in him. He rushed over to her place, excitement buzzing through his veins. The reunion was warm, full of laughter and loving touches—a spark that reminded them both why they belonged to each other. Afterward, it was time to pick up the kids from school. Their joy at seeing him was undeniable. They ran into his arms, arms that had missed them just as much. His heart was full, a little more whole with each hug and giggle. "Pae!" they cried, and it sounded like music. Later, he made his way to the hospital to check on his mother. She was stable now—a word that brought some peace, though prayers still hung in the air. Hope hadn't left the room. Not yet. Not ever. By 11:00 PM, he was deep into Chapter 2 of his book, HWHL. The chapter? Appreciation Day. “Huh,” he thought aloud, “Three times a year?” That didn't feel like enough—not for the woman he adored. Appreciation should be woven into every day, but maybe this was about going above and beyond. Making it special. Unique. Not routine, but remarkable. He made a quiet vow right there: to never stop listening to her. To make sure his appreciation was more than words. Just like Christ’s love—intentional and undeniable. Because love, to him, wasn’t just an emotion. It was a mission. And he was walking it—daily