It was 4 AM when he came to visit. It is the majority of mornings when he comes to visit from his own bed or the sleeping bag on our floor. He comes, crawls in close, starts to breathe deep. I get up whispering about time now for the sleeping bag. I move him to the floor. We have a little routine, he and and I. This morning I go from sleeping bag to kitchen on the hunt for ibuprofen. The headache had shortened my night before he had.
The alarm went off at 5:30. Every workday it rouses us from sleep. Coming home tired from a meeting last night, I said I would pack his lunch this morning. The medicine had kicked in; I beg understanding for a wife with a pounding head given enough relief to sleep. He grants it. He grants more. Don't worry about getting things done today. Just rest so your head feels better. He packs his lunch and heads out.
She comes to me, crawls in close, tries to sleep about the time I hear the door close on his footsteps. She is awake for the day; trying to continue resting, she tosses and with each turn my head hurts.
You can get up now.
But. . .
I'm not angry with you. My head just hurts. You can go play quietly.
She slips out and goes to create pictures. I get up in time to take more medicine. I feel better. They've given such grace. I am determined to give it back in truckloads. No more tiny spoonfuls of grace, putting off of fun, running an agenda.
Nope, if I really believe He's enough and their time with me is short. I'm gonna say Yes. Over and over and over. And when I say No it is going to be worth it and it is going to come with cuddles whenever necessary and possible. Which incidentally, is nearly all the time.