This morning I just woke up sour.  I had bizarre dreams all night (pregnancy is infuriating like that), and woke up unsure of what was real and what was dreamt.  The house was hot, I felt unrested, and then I did the stupidest thing in the world–went in the bathroom and weighed myself (I know, I was asking for trouble).  What?!  How on earth can I be gaining weight at this rate?  I never thought it was possible to gain 2 pounds every single week.  Getting dressed made things worse–nothing fits, and since I’m doing this blessed clothing fast 🙂 I don’t have the option to even go get new clothes.  My hair is ratty and gross, a zit stands out on my left cheek.  So by the time I get downstairs a cheery “Good morning sweetie!” is not about to cross my lips.  I opt for silence, which is usually the best choice, and after making breakfast, Jeff comes in for a kiss and good morning.  I lean into his chest and mope.  I can feel crumbs under my feet (how does one little boy filthy an entire house?) and as I glance out the sliding glass door (which I cleaned yesterday in order to show the house), I see muddy handprints smeared around the 3-foot-high mark.  *Sigh*

It’s mornings like these, totally void of real tragedy but full of little downers, that can just be discouraging.  But what sticks out to me about this morning was the tenacious grace of my husband.  Instead of leaving early as he usually does, he lingered around longer than normal.  He got Dutch up, made his oatmeal, and sat with him so I could make myself somewhat more presentable.  He read Dutch’s BIble to him, then even got on the floor and played cowboys and indians.  Innumerable hugs, encouragment, and insistance that he still thinks I’m hot filled the morning, until he finally left at 9am.  He never grew impatient, never lectured me, never preached and told me to shape up.  He just loved me.  And love is the greatest motivator on earth.  Paul said that the love of Christ compelled him.  It was the love of Christ that inspired Paul’s service. It was not guilt nor lecturing.  Love.  ANd it is the love of Jeff this morning that slowly pulled me from my little wallowing pit of self-pity. It is love that lures us out of ourselves.  It wasn’t a lecture, or an exhortation to get over myself. It was just quiet attention, extra care, a dose of affection, and unconditional love.  I’m thankful for that today. Thanks, hon.  You teach me a lot every day.

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