"Let the gratefulness overflow into blessing all around you. Then, it will be a really good day." Louie Schwartzberg
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From Grandpa Cardigans to Friends and finally to Love


posted by Susan Dominikovich on , , , ,

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When I put my pyjamas on at 6:00 pm, the message is simple.  For a start, I don't normally wear pyjamas.  A skimpy little chemise some nights, and others nothing at all.  All thanks to modern building codes, insulation and double-glazing.  And Paul is very thankful too.  But when I put my pyjamas on at 6:00 pm the message is: I'm tired.  I would rather be horizontal than vertical at this moment.  Please kids, can you put yourselves to bed and if someone can miraculously clean the kitchen I would be forever indebted to them.  And yes, it probably means hands off.

And when I put my grandpa cardigan over top of my pyjamas, the message is very clear.

I am beyond tired.  I'm bone-tired and I just want a little bit of comfort.  Tea and chocolate biscuits and grandpa cardigans comfort.

Our house smells of Vicks.  The rubbish bin is full of soggy tissues and we have all gone to bed with a chorus of coughing to keep us company.  Our Abby's coughing is particularly croupy.  We had two sick days and I can see now that more were needed.  But daddy was visiting the school today with his team captain.  Cross country training with special guests.  They couldn't miss that so they went to school.  And they ran.  All in the name of daddy-love.  And croupy cough is the result.

And I woke up this morning, never fully feeling awake but knowing that I had to work.  I knew that no amount of caffeine would make a difference so I satisfied myself with an iron tablet, peanut butter toast and orange juice.  I kept my shower short, knowing no amount of hot water on my body would make a difference either.  And I read Psalm 1 and I told Jesus that I needed Him today and I knew that He already knew that.  

And He did know that and so work was wonderful, as it always is when I am working with children because their lives are light and light is joy.  A day at work is a day spent feeling grateful.

I wasn't world-weary when I got home.  Just plain old tired.  Tired from being low in iron and tired after a week of sickness and fitting all the normal routines in around the sickness. Plain old tired isn't a problem.  It's more like a message:  stop for a moment.  Stop rushing.  Stop.  

So I put on my pyjamas with my grandpa cardigan over top and I stopped.

Paul is out at parent teacher interviews and yes, the kiddios put themselves to bed.  Except for my bright-eyed girl, the one who is 8 going on 28 who put me to bed instead.  She got my sheets from the dryer, helped me put them on the bed, tucked in the corners and the duvet and put the slips on the pillows while I made a cup of green tea with braeburn apple and grabbed a chocolate biscuit.  Because chocolate biscuits are made for grandpa cardigan nights like this one.

By the time I had made my snack and returned to my freshly made bed with the sheet turned down on my side, Madeline had already crawled into her daddy's side of the bed with her book, blankie, (not quite going on 28 just yet), and her own pillow.  "tee hee" she laughed.

With my girl at my side, I grabbed my laptop and caught up on my favourite blogs, cup of tea and chocolate biscuit never far.  And I cried at Ann Voskamp's Horse Principal, and I was challenged by Jennifer Rothschild's Gratitude Syndrome, all the while listening to the ethereal frames of piano music.  Restful piano.  Calming and comforting piano.

And then I saw that a friend was on-line so we chatted through the airwaves while Madeline talked beside me, reading the historical notes at the back of her Cleopatra novel that she had just finished.  My friend and I went from catching up on our days to sewing gifts, to Crunchie Bars and then somehow to Michael W. Smith.  While neither of us absolutely adored his music, we discussed his merits and took a trip down memory lane together.  And I told her what one of his songs meant to me.

The time my beautiful friends spontaneously broke into "Friends are Friends Forever" when Paul and I were leaving our wedding.  How I wanted to stop and stay, to still be with them all.  Because of course we weren't just leaving our wedding but in a few days were also leaving the country.  My home and native land.  18 years later and I have only been back a few times for visits.  Yet here we are, still in touch, still loving and praying for each other.  Those friends.  Still rejoicing with each other in the good, still caring for each in the bad.  Michael W. Smith knew what he was on about.

And so my friend and I drank tea and ate biscuits while we chatted on-line and Madeline and I chatted about Ptolemy and roman numerals side-by-side and the coughing in the other room eventually stopped.  Paul will be home soon and I am glad.  I've had a perfect pyjama and grandpa cardigan sort of night but I will be glad to end it in the arms of my love, finally catching up on each other's day, in the quiet and the calm.  I will be glad to see him and to feel his love.  A love so clear and true that people who hardly know us said to him just the other day, "we can see how much you love your wife."  

I am grateful to be loved so much and I will rest in the comfort of that love tonight.  I might even remove my grandpa cardigan.

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