My husband is a morning person. I am not. At least not by nature. The following poem sums up most of my mornings perfectly...
For some time Stewart would wake up and have his morning coffee alone while I stayed in bed. That was perfectly fine me!! Then one day, and for what reason I don't remember, he asked me to wake up EVERY morning to have coffee with him. My brain had the following conversation with itself, which may or may not be similar to the actual exchange between my husband and me... "Excuse me?! You want me to what?! This is an unreasonable demand!! Nooooo! I don't want to! <pout> FINE! I'll do it but I refuse to be happy about it!" So for years my ever peaceable husband made and brought my coffee to me in bed.
Stewart and I are so very different that some might wonder how we ever got together or how we've stayed together for 24 years. The short answer is "grace". Not mine. Not his. But God's. Not the kind that sweeps our differences under the rug only to be uncovered during a later argument (that happens quite frequently though). The kind of grace I'm talking about is the kind that says "There is more at stake here than what you can see. You have everything you need to keep working!" And even that manifests itself very differently in each of us. More about that at another time, maybe, because that isn't what this post is about.
Did I mention that Stewart is a morning person? This doesn't just mean that he wakes up at 5:15 a.m., folks. This means he likes to chat at 5:15 a.m. My internal clock at 5:15 a.m. takes Proverbs 27:14 very seriously... "A loud and cheerful greeting early in the morning will be taken as a curse!" A typical morning went something like this...
Stewart: "Jo. Here's your coffee." (Why does he have to slam the mug into the coaster?)
Me: <groan>
Stewart: "How'd you sleep?" (The light from his eyes nearly blinding me.)
Me: <snort>
Stewart: "That good, huh? Got any plans for today?" (I could actually hear him smiling.)
Me: < croak>
Stewart: "Oh, yeah, you told me last night. You're going to blah blah blah. (Fingernails on a chalkboard, anyone?)
Me: <heavy sigh>
This would go on for the amount of time it took me to drink my first cup. He'd go pour me another cup and I would enjoy the silence for the minute he was gone. Get the picture? Yeah, not a pretty one, to be sure!
No comments:
Post a Comment