It’s dark. It’s early. I’m awake.
He’s left the shades up this time like I asked (again), and I’m glad. I like to watch the morning come. Another beginning.
I’m pretty sure he’s awake, too.
I wonder if he knows I am.
I’m still. My head and heart are so heavy with to-do’s and needs.
I pray.
He lifts himself up on one elbow, looks over me to check the clock.
It’s not time yet.
I think about getting up anyway. But still I lie.
Our pastor told us yesterday about Vince Lombardi. How sometimes he would hold up a football in the locker room and announce, “This is a football.”
Duh.
But Vince believed that for a team to function effectively, it was important to come back to the fundamentals, the basics, the beginning. Our pastor reminded us that the purpose of the game is to move the football. If the whole team runs to the goal without the ball, the whole effort is in vain.
He holds up what he calls the most dangerous book in the world. “This is a Bible.”
It’s holy, he tells us. Set apart. A different kind of book that changes lives. God-breathed.
And I think even the mature sometimes need a cup of milk. And what waste is the race without the book. And how sometimes we need to return and rehearse the beginning.
He throws the covers back, sits on edge of bed, tap-tap-taps on flip phone. Its light illuminates the dark. I suspect he’s shutting off the alarm.
He stands, folds covers back down, steps away, and then returns to smooth them again. I like to think he’s tucking me back in so I stay toasty, but he may just want to keep the cat off his pillow.
We used to rehearse it all every anniversary. Our beginnings. How we met, where we went, what we did, the feelings we shared. How we’ve survived so many things that would have shred a weaker bond. Sometimes he sang all the western theme songs to me.
But there’ve been so many anniversaries and so many years, and we haven’t done that for so long.
I strain in the dark to remember.
I doze.
I wake, and light illuminates the dark. He’s moving around the room, and the scent of his cologne fills the air.
Somehow I’ve created a little tent for myself. He pulls back a flap and kisses my forehead. “Bye.”
I won’t see him for four days. “Do you have your phone charger?” I ask.
“I do.”
I think while he’s gone, I’ll pull together all the albums. We need to rehearse our beginnings again. Before we forget.
He leaves and turns off the light. I listen as his car turns out of the drive.
I reach for the Droid. Its light illuminates the dark. I open the Bible app. In the beginning . . .
And Light illuminated the dark.
And He did.
And I do.
nice…returning to my first love Jesus…and inspired to commemorate our beginnings over here…married 26 years on Thursday.
Congratulations, Kel! You’ve passed the quarter century mark! 🙂
beautiful thoughts for today – thank you for sharing them today- always enjoy reading you 🙂
Thanks so much, Kelli.
Going back to the beginning…to the basics are always good…our marriage…our relationship with Christ…just looking at the simple love that hold us everyday. blessings to you~
It’s so easy to lose that when we’re caught up in the mundane of the every day or the chaos of the moment.
Beautiful.
There is such beauty when two have been one so long that they must go back to the beginning in order to remember. Lovely, friend.
I never thought of it that way, Kimberly. Thanks for adding that perspective.
We need to re-remember some of those early times. Lately, our time together is talking about the difficult situations or trying desperately not to talk about the difficult situations.
Been there, Megan. And on some days still there. Sometimes I have to go back to remember that first love for fear I’d lose it altogether.
Your writing is beautifu! Love how you weave this wisdom here. And your “call back to the beginning” is profound for me tonight.. so tired, overwhelmed, and in need of perspective. Crazy how “daily life” can drown us if we don’t anchor our hearts to the One who is Alpha and Omega. Hope to meet you at the “dream conference” next spring! Nebraska is near and dear to my heart after living there for many years.
Blessings to you.
Thanks so much, Alicia. I’ve never been to Nebraska, so I’m look forward to it. Praying for sweet rest for you tonight.
I think it is sometimes a good thing to look back and remember. In the remembering, we draw closer.
This is lovely Sandy.
Indeed. I don’t want to lose the wonder of those early days–in my marriage, in my parenting, or in my Christian walk.
Thank you for this beautiful tribute to love over time. And it does take a little bit of effort when we get past 40 years together, doesn’t it? But it’s good to remember, to celebrate, to draw forth our 20-something selves and try them on for an hour or two (or more). Thanks for this call to rehearse. And rehearse again.
Sandra, you are such a gifted writer, able to stir emotions in the reader and cause us to want to live unto God. Thank you for using your gift to His glory today! Please, keep going!
This was so incredibly touching, Sandy. Your imagery is superb and your heart is on your sleeve.
Yes, let us never forget to go back to the beginning . . .
Blessings to you!
“How we’ve survived so many things that would have shred a weaker bond.”
This made me think of all the times God asked his people to go back and remember the hard times and the way he delivered them through all of them. We find strength to go forward in looking back at God and his faithfulness to us.
“This is a football.” Love it!
I love that you would recall the beginning of your marriage each anniversary! I use to ask Doc to repeat his proposal to me every so often. Over the years it was shortened to “Ya Wanna?” It always brings a laugh.
Thank you for sharing such a sweet story of you and your man, and your God.
i can feel this…..sweet and beautiful
on my soul
like that morning light
creeping through your open shade.
glad thanks,
Jennifer
That basic about moving the football would have been a good one for WVU to remember last week.
But this is such a sweet, intimate picture and I found myself wanting to sink into those soft covers as I read. Lovely, Sandy.