MoMA magic

My husband woke up on Friday suggesting we should go look at art. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) has free admission on Friday evenings, so off we went.

After waiting in line a short time...
we got in! Mr. Miller was skeptical of some of the art. In fact, after looking at just two pieces, he skipped an entire room of Kara Walker who is the new hotness in the modern art world. (A Sun review vindicated his impulse.) We lingered long, however, in the design, Soviet architecture, and minimalism exhibits.





I liked this lady falling into the sculpture garden pond:



He liked this series called "StepMaster" and this wall-length proof:




He was disappointed to learn that, up-close, the proof was not legit but instead a lot of scribbling.

As I recount the evening, I am overwhelmed by the way my husband loved me. He is not an art connoisseur; he doesn't even flirt with the idea. He suggested visiting the MoMA solely for me. And, not only that, but rather than just suffering through the experience, he engaged his mind and made thoughtful comments on the pieces. God is so kind to me in giving me a gracious, self-sacrificing man who seeks my joy ahead of his own. Mr. Miller loves me as his own body. In this way, I see how he is Christ's workmanship. Not surprisingly, out of all the art in the world, my husband is my favorite work to behold.