Ice Sheets
While I’m up extra early with Benjamin every morning, Chris makes the coffee and jumps right into a quiet time and a super early start to his work day. He winds down on the couch in the evenings while I work. We always try to go to bed together, even if I have to wake Chris up from the couch after I finish up for the night.
It’s winter right now, and, like the majority of homes here, our rental house has no insulation. Our bedroom is, by far, the coldest room in the house - even with a panel heater on the wall. It’s always colder inside than outside, and we usually keep down jackets and wool socks on while we’re home. When it’s time to go to bed at night, there’s a whole mental preparation for getting into bed. We know we will get warm... but it’s those painstakingly long, first five minutes...
Last night, we added an extra blanket to the bed. We hyped ourselves up before climbing in. I chattered, convulsed and cackled all at the same time, too cold to control anyfunction of my body. Chris shrieked while holding his breath and threatening me about moving the sheets. It set me off even more. I couldn’t stop laughing. Which made the sheets move more. Which made Chris angry-squeal. And, as you can imagine, I laughed harder.
Finally, I found Chris in the cocoon he had made for himself under the covers, and we prayed together while we warmed up. I never stop smiling. I thought, “These are the stories I want to remember.”
Sure, we’ve got a great love story. And we’ve had some incredible Africa adventures and been a part of incredible movements on the mission field. But those aren’t the things that make us “us”. It’s not the things he says on stage, or the things I teach with Help Club that make us who we are or our marriage what it is. It’s cackling and cocooning. It’s life lived in the little moments, sharing the weird parts of life, and never wanting to forget the sound of that fierce man-squeal. These are the silly stories I want to laugh about on porch swings when we’re older.