Fold that Throw

I was about to start this post by saying that it is 10:10pm, but then the clock turned to 10:11pm. 10:11 is a whole level of cool lower, but I suppose I'm telling you anyways, aren't I?

This reminds me of the fact that my darling niece's clock is broken. BROKEN. It was with great heartbreak that we found this fact out today. Glorie is one of those good kids, the ones who stay in their bed until "seven zero zero." Today her quiet rest was under command to last until "three one five." When she didn't come down at 3:15, my sister went up to check on her and found a teary-eyed punkin' laying on her tummy, little pink alarm clock pulled to just in front of her face, staring. She looked up and moaned: "It's taking so long." The time read 12:33, and had read that same thing for what I assume was the longest quiet rest in the history of forever to that little brain. One Two Three Three! Oh, the injustice of it all.

I didn't make my bed today, and when it was time to get back in it, I found that it just wouldn't do. I quickly assessed the [messy] situation and decided that if I pulled the covers up, then turned them down properly, I would feel much more relaxed upon entry. As I tossed the excess throw aside and moved the computer, a thought came to me: I will never be able to do this to a man once I'm married.

"Honey, can you get up? I need to make the bed."

I just have this feeling he'd say no. Just plain no. And then I have to submit, because that's what wives do, right?

Sigh. This is neither bad news nor good news, I'm just saying that I probably won't be able to do ridiculous things like make a bed at bedtime for no apparent reason at all, because...well, because it's ridiculous.

But I did it anyways, and I'm much more comfortable, thank you very much.

*****

On a health note, things are looking up! I've been waiting for a feeling, the one where it feels like spring deep on the inside, like things are coming alive after a long sleep, and it started yesterday. Actually, Mr. Falkner* prayed for me on Saturday and Sunday I woke up with a definite change in the way I felt. The overarching heavy feeling in my muscles had faded, so I suppose the healing process has been happening for a while! The Lord's touch is so sweet.

I spent the first part of the week completely content sitting in bed, getting up very minimally - such as when my stomach was about to eat itself for need of a cheese stick, that sort of thing. It wasn't even that I felt so overwhelmingly tired or unable to move, but just that I had no need to move, which is strange for me. But yesterday I sat up, downstairs, out of my pajamas (for they needed a wash) and watched a dreamy white landscape form outside. The light pouring through the windows felt like just a sign of what was beginning to go on inside. Yesterday it felt like the Lord was tenderly knitting me back together.

This morning I actually left the house (to go to my sister's house for there were warm cookies awaiting me), wearing jeans. I deserve a trophy. Nevermind I got tired putting on the jeans and laid back on the bed for half an hour waiting for a ride around the corner. It was a success all the same! Tomorrow, I may get visitors. And Jackson's chocolate chip cookies. Yay for me!

*edited to add: I have to name-drop, because everyone who knows Mr. Falkner read that, sat back, let out a deep sigh of joy and had this sort of wonderful calm feeling that happens when one meets a real-deal father in the Lord. :)