I slept 11 hours (& our church rules).
Immediately after I blogged last night, I fell asleep on the couch next to Clint who has, for some reason that still remains a mystery to me, decided to start playing Shining Force on the Sega Genesis again. Yes, Sega. Like, the old-school video game console. Sonic the Hedgehog style.
(Warning: Digression ahead.)
One thing I find incredibly comforting is falling asleep on the couch. It took a long while of being married before Clint understood that. Back in the early days of our lovey-dovey-ness, when I curled up into that ball that meant nothing but nigh-night time (and therefore, no sex), he would say, “If you’re tired, then why don’t you go to bed?” and proceed to question my reasoning.
The fact is, I love falling asleep on the couch because there’s nothing more luxurious than going back to bed. I love getting up, drowsy with sleep, and crawling under my fresh, cool covers. It’s like the appetizer of the meal that is a full night’s sleep. That’s the best way I can explain it.
So, last night, I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up only long enough to notice when Clint had placed a cozy blanket over me, when he kissed me on the head, and then when he had moved the ottoman for my feet. Eventually, I went to bed and slept until 6am (so really, 7am, thanks to Fall Back). That’s 11 entire hours of sleep. Oh boy, did I need it. This week has been completely exhausting in almost every way.
This morning, I got up with the kids. Later, after Clint got up (he really needed sleep, too), we headed to church. It felt so good to be at church. So many familiar faces. So many stories. So much hope and joy.
Before the service began, we were standing and talking to Chad, our friend and one of the church’s pastors. “Man, you guys, that just sucks,” he said about our situation. He listened. He commiserated. He shook his head and said, “That’s just not right.” It was exactly what we needed to hear.
Soon after that, Clint and I were standing in the foyer and Vicki, another pastor, came up to us. She was beaming. “We’re praying so hard for you guys,” she said. “I just know there’s a miracle coming for you. I believe it.” She mentioned how, at the first service, she had said a generic prayer for those who are unemployed or underemployed, but that she didn’t say our names specifically. “We don’t mind if you mention us by name,” I said and Clint agreed. The more prayer, the better.
The service was incredible. The message seemed so tailored to our situation in many ways. The music couldn’t have been more perfect. After Clint and I took communion, we asked to be prayed for by two of the prayer warriors at our church. This is something that Clint has never done before. I teared up, since apparently this is a new normal thing for me to do, and we received the prayer whole-heartedly. Then, hand-in-hand, we walked to our seats.
We’re in this together.
On the 6th day of thanks, I’m thankful for our church community. Today, we learned that “community” means “the gift of with.” It definitely is an incredible gift. I’m thankful for all of the hugs, the teary eyes, the encouraging words, and the commiserating that we have received from our family at this church. To think, we’ve only been there a year-and-a-half… and we’ve been embraced like we’ve been a part of the congregation from day one. Incredible.
Tomorrow, it’s back to reality. This time, we have a plan. Our house is in decent shape, our laundry washed and folded. Clint’s dad graciously fixed our defunct garbage disposal, so the dishes are less of a chore. Clint has a phone call with a company at 10am and I have my interview (that I’m SO psyched about!) at 2pm. We know what calls we need to make. We know what to do. We’re doing what we can.
Tomorrow is a new day.