This morning, Mike and I both woke up at around the same time. I stagger my alarm clocks (first one goes off just after 6, and I get up between 6:45-7:05) to help myself wake up slowly, but this morning, it only took one for us to be awake.
We didn’t get out of bed right away, though… we talked. It was the best kind of talking, slow, sweet, not urgent. Neither of us interrupted each other (and by that, I mean I didn’t interrupt him, which is usually the problem). We held hands. We cuddled. And we prayed together.
We have gotten better about praying together since we’ve gotten married. It was something we did together while dating. But living together has allowed us to pray more. It’s wonderful.
A dear friend said recently that she’s so excited she gets to pray for her future husband for the rest of her life. And that same excitement is growing inside me, too – Mike and I will be together for the rest of our lives. And I’ll get to pray for him for all of it. What a blessing! But praying together is so poignant. Praying by myself is wonderful, and praying corporately is also wonderful. But praying with another person who knows me so intimately brings a different kind of joy.
Most mornings we are both so tired that I end up getting out of bed groggily and very unhappily. This morning was different: I still didn’t want to get out of bed, but mostly because my very warm husband was still there, and the room was filled with the Holy Spirit’s sweet aroma.
Those moments… they’re beautiful. I’m thankful to have them. I’m thankful to lose time in the mornings praying in bed with my husband, the second-best gift I’ve ever received. Lord, thank you for these little-huge gifts. Thank you that all good gifts come from You.