We awoke to sunny skies and cool temperatures yesterday. The birds were caterwauling in the flowering quince outside the bedroom window. Cardinals, blue jays, grackles, and a variety of wrens and sparrows flitted in and out to the feeders and back. Heavily laden logging trucks barreled down the two lane blacktop out front, their jake brakes doing their best to drown out the morning birdsong.
I looked over at my sweetheart. His slow and steady breathing reassuring me all was well in our little microcosm of the universe. My mind turned to why this morning ritual has become so important to me. It was just about this time nine years ago when I began having premonitions of Mr. Virgo’s coming demise. Nightmares haunted me for a week before his death…voices whispering unwanted warnings. It’s impossible to shake the memories at this time of year. So, I listen to them. I acknowledge their presence. And I reassure myself. There haven’t been any warnings here. No bad dreams. No feelings of dread.
With my false sense of security firmly implanted in my psyche, I quietly got up…dressed…and headed to the kitchen to make my morning coffee. I stood at the kitchen window and thought to myself how vastly different this life is compared to my last. Time and distance and perspective allows you to see things more clearly. I see the little flaws in my marriage to Mr. Virgo that I never allowed to enter my consciousness when he was alive.
I think I was a little afraid of him. To be more exact…I was afraid of him leaving. I’d been left before. That leaves a mark. I was afraid to be absolutely, genuinely me. As I looked out the window at the world waking up, I sighed. Ours was a good marriage. We loved each other deeply. And…it was exhausting trying to be who I felt I needed to be in order to keep it that way.
My thoughts turned to Mr. FixIt and I smiled. This man…this marriage…is so rich and fun and happy and demands the work we put into it to make it fruitful. He makes me just crazy enough to keep things interesting. He makes me laugh. He holds my heart gently. My name is safe on his tongue. Having been widowed makes all this pure platinum as I count every day a sheer blessing.
The beep of the coffee maker shook me from my reverie and heard Mr. FixIt coming down the hall.
“Good morning, baby…how about pancakes and eggs?”
He smiled and allowed that sounded just fine. Our day had begun. We settled in our recliners. He, reading the newspaper on his phone. Me sipping coffee and knitting. Try as I might, I just couldn’t get that baby sock to work like I wanted so I abandoned it for the moment and reached for a beautiful rose grey blend of 70% alpaca and 30% merino wool yarn I picked up in the bargain bin for $2 a skein.
My dear friend Gail shared her mitten pattern and I set to work knitting them up. They’re going to be nice and warm on cold winter days. I never seem to find gloves that keep my fingers warm. Mittens are much better. Later in the afternoon, Mr. FixIt ran to town for an appointment. I stayed and knitted and thought of how richly blessed we are to live where we live. We aren’t being bombed. Tanks aren’t trying to run us over. There is a madman let loose on the world. The enemy seeks to devour the innocent. We must be ever vigilant to keep the wolf away from our doors. We came so dangerously close…it could easily happen again.
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“Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
James 4:7 ESV
