What Manner of Woman Is This?

The poise and ease with which my wife recently took care of a diaper gone bad (and I mean really bad) is a marvel of creation, almost otherworldly. 

I panicked. She performed. Flawlessly, seamlessly, promptly, as though she'd dealt with this dirty deed ten thousand times before. But I know she hadn’t. And she sang with cheer while going at the whole mess.

And by diaper gone bad, I mean as in defiling a great deal in its wake besides the diaper, leaving one usually delightful and cute little girl soiled and smelly, and toys and bed sheets and crib smeared with the unholy. 

What manner of woman I married is truly beyond mortal reckoning. But I know this: she is to be praised. May God “give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates” (Prov. 31:31).