This Christmas season has looked like no other–construction projects, appliance delivery disasters, and decorating plans consumed by service and energy poured out elsewhere. Perhaps it’s my age, but I’m grateful for the one sure thing I have–my blessed husband.
I hope you enjoy this re-post. I know it made me smile to read it.
We’re standing in the kitchen. I move fluidly from dishwasher to counter, bending, stacking–bowls, dishes, cups, goblets.
Husband is at the cupboard behind me. I rotate, wordless, and hand him his favorite glass-he replaces it to the shelf and continues swallowing his vitamins.
I interrupt his healthy intake once again, this time with the rainbow-colored stack of Ikea cups. Without a word, he fits them on the shelf next to our stash of kid-safe plastics.
I love our morning routine–coffee pot steaming and gurgling, the bird clock chiming it’s 8 am hour–the robin, I think–and the garbage truck outside our window beep-beep-beeping.
It all feels so safe–full of comfort and joy. The silent, sure sounds of an easy morning, a gift to me, along with a view of the birds at our feeders. Their simple presence provides no end of amusement.
How restful to be here, next to my humming husband, the stronger part of our relationship. I smile at his silly whistling to the birds, his concern about feeding the squirrels outside the door; this early quiet time feels like we’ve been doing this for a thousand years.
God reminds me of a soul prayer I had at the beginning of Advent , not a spoken request, a written non-lament (in the book I never finished). It was a prayer of wondering, “I don’t know what I want, but this is what I think I need”–and I realize the answer is standing right here next to me.
The wordless feeling like a well worn pair of old warm slippers, pouring my juice while I make the coffee, humming ‘Frosty the Snowman’ while I unload the dishes…It’s a quiet symphony of comfort and joy, a gift to my soul from my Saviour–a married Christmas.
May you find that same comfort and joy this holiday season.