Ecclesiastes 4:6

Christina and I just sitting on her bed, ten on a Tuesday night, legs crossed, singing together in hushed voices so as not to wake the two upstairs.  There I am with longish fingernails on guitar, fumbling along but joyful, hair to one side; there she is after having spent the evening at a funeral, eyes closed, barefoot; both of us sobered by our weakness, grateful for His presence, resting, resting.  "Nothing But the Blood," "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee," "Hymn," and "The Nails In Your Hands" from our lips to His ear.  Prayer.  Stillness.  

Thank you for this world, for loving us before its foundations, for giving us yourself to enjoy, for breath in our lungs. Thank you for bidding us rest and for drawing us out of bed in the morning.  For fullness of life.  Humble us, train us by your grace to flee to the cross in moments of doubt and despair. Teach us to sit with you and hand over our hearts. Deliver us from the enemy's snares.  Help us to consider others as better than ourselves and to think about ourselves less. Bless this home, draw us closer to each other and ever closer to you in Jesus' name.  


"Life is better together," she said as I headed up to bed.  And we broke out in a Jack Johnson chorus.