The night was cruel with nightmares, my mind turning worst fears into reality. Me, stuck there with front row seats to the horror flick I didn't pay for, with nothing to do but wait for it all to end.
I woke up, sweating. All my insecurities came out to play when I was most vulnerable. They always do. Insecurities are cruel like that.
I fear I am not lovely enough. I fear I am not adequate. I fear I am not captivating. I regret my imperfect mothering, my imperfect loving. I wonder how Matt can love the likes of me...
Every day he tells me he loves me. Without my prompting. Every day he tells me I am pretty, WITH my prompting. Why can't I believe his answers?
When will he realize I am not good enough for him? Will he look elsewhere? My world would come crashing down around me if ever that were to be. I think I would die. A painful, slow, emotionally seared death. But it is sure to happen because how could he NOT? With me just.....me.
Too tall. Too wide. Not blond or brunette, just awkwardly "dirty". Red (and white) skin, depending on the spot. Not coy, not terribly smart, or terribly funny or terribly cute. Just.... me.
It is 4:50am. Once awakened from a nightmare, I find it hard to fall back asleep. Soon, the alarm will go off. Soon, the day will begin. I squeeze my eyes shut, only to see the reruns of painful dream. PLEASE, think about something else.
Then, Matt turns "Can I hold you? Just five more minutes..." this is his morning routine. His arm burrows under my pillow and finds my hand. His lips are resting on my ear and his breath falls around my neck. The other arm wraps around me until he pulls me so close I might lose my breath. But his arms relax as sleep takes over again and I am left in my happy place.
I think about how wonderful a spot this is. How long I waited to find this. How I am only his and he is only mine. Wholly, completely.
Thinking on these things, being in this mans arms, the nightmares fade and I am lulled into peace...almost asleep.
I feel him sigh and I smile with eyes closed. Does he feel the perfection of this moment too? So close am I to sleeping in this perfectly wonderful place in time but I can't. I linger on the edge of awake and on the verge of sleep just in time to feel his lips move and hear his deep, sleepy voice in my ear...
"I am so glad that I married you."
My eyes open...drinking in what I just heard. How did he know my soul needed refreshing after a night being beat up by my same old insecurities? How did he know I needed affirmation more than ever before?
All day I ask him "Do you love me? Do you think I am pretty?" and he assures me that yes, he does and yes, I am. But, I think, what ELSE is he supposed to say? It is these moments, these genuine, unprovoked moments that mean so much to me. Whether it is in the wee, dark hours, between slumber and stirring or as I serve dinner and he pushes my hair to the side and strokes my neck. I wonder if he knows the power he has over me? I wonder if he understands how completely smitten I am with him? I wonder if he sees that these dear gestures make me fly?
I don't understand how it can be that a man like him could love a woman so imperfect-but neither can I understand how the earth was formed from breath, or a woman from bone. I cannot understand how a soul can be made before the lovers even know they have made one or how to count all the many forms of a snowflake. These mysteries of mercy are beyond my capabilities, but they are no less real.
Thank you, God, for this man who loves me so freely.
For his breathy kisses.
For the message he gave me yesterday morning, may I never doubt.
For the huge heart within him.
For his playful tickles until I fall off the bed laughing.
For his man hands that hold me just how I like.
For the only two rings he has ever given me. They are perfect.
For his twinkly eyes.
For his impassioned debates.
For his genuineness.
For his blindness to my shortcomings.
For his affirmations to a needy and insecure wife.
For his kindnesses toward me each day
For his love of children
For his unending support and encouragement
For the back of his neck
For his hard work
For his thoughtfulness
For his bullrides with giggling children on back
For his stories
For his lips, I study their perfection
For him being so respectable
For him taking after You.
Gifts numbered 329 to 351blessedly accounted for.
What are YOU thankful for????