I have a friend. He's beautiful. He once wrote about how men aren't generally described as beautiful, and how he was quite certain that he would never be described in those terms, but I couldn't disagree more. Read his blog, and you'll almost instantly see what I mean.
It is beautiful to read what he writes about his wife and his daughters. What jumps out at you is how utterly immersed they are in each other, and how utterly content they are to be that way. It is beautiful to read what he writes about his job. He finds lost children and helps to bring them home, both metaphorically and literally. It is beautiful to read what he writes about himself. What he describes as awkward comes across as sincere and unashamedly honest.
Some days I can't wait to read his next entry. And some days I can't bring myself to read it at all. His blog has become a barometer I use for myself, to gauge how I'm feeling about myself as a person, as a mother and as a wife. It makes me want to be better. And I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. This is a man who, from the moment he wakes in the morning until he goes to bed at night, profoundly influences his world.
My husband accuses me of idealizing people that I like. This is one of the most accurate statements I've ever heard about myself. His family, I love and idealize the heck out of them. But that's not the case with Brian, for one reason. He does not give us the chance to idealize him, because he lays it all out, the good and the bad. And the sum total of all of that good and bad, from my perspective, is one beautiful example of a man.