This week the Cowboy and I have been together for fifteen years. There's something about that man that never ceases to amaze this heart of mine.
When I woke up this morning, my little baby bump felt tight, the stretch marks that currently decorate my pregnant self throbbed, and even though I had slept like a rock for a good 8 hours, my eye-lids strained to stay open for more than two seconds at a time. I rolled out of bed and dragged my feet into the kitchen, made a cup of tea, and stood there at the counter looking out the window.
The Cowboy came up behind me and slipped those worn hands of his on my bare baby bump, whispered "Good morning," in my ear.
It's strange how the loving kindness of a Cowboy can make you feel beautiful even when you're brutally aware of the fact that your human body is so very__human.
At a little BBQ joint in Old Colorado City, him and I, we order way to much food and everything these days gives me indigestion in all directions and he doesn't care, he just joins in. We laugh at his silly ideas for baby names and I sit across from him feeling so thankful for where we are, for who we are, for the way that we are both so stoked on each other after fifteen years and seven babies and gray hair and lumps and bumps in the least likely of places.
Then later, at this quaint little coffee shop he tries to convince me that we need a 4 wheel drive 15 passenger van and he shows me a whole slew of options on his phone. And I get into it, because he's into it, and I'm into him. I'm sitting there and my stomach hurts so bad (cuz even the tea brings on the indigestion these days) and he cracks all these pregnant lady jokes and I'm laughing cuz it's really so funny, but my body can't decide whether or not it wants to keep laughing or burst into tears because of the sharp pains in my stomach. He reaches across the table and looks at me like everything about me is still new, still something sweet to be discovered, and I can't help but wonder how we got here?
I'm pregnant and it's Valentines Day and it's supposed to be romantic and I've got gas and stretch marks and I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open on our extravagantly simple date.
How did we get here?
And how did here get to be so good?
We drive home listening to all our favorite country songs and we don't even say a word to one another. We both mouth the words to each song and it's pretty much the only time I ever see that man of mine bobbing his head to the beat, when we're driving down a county road and the good stuff is coming through the speakers.
When along the way did the silence start to speak so loud?
When we get home he pulls me close in the dark, and I feel vulnerable and nothing like anything the world has ever told me is beautiful. And again, without a word, he convinces me that he is convinced that I am none other than the crown and glory of God's creation. I am his and he is mine. And I'm round and striped, speckled, and tired___ and I am so very loved by a Cowboy who sees something that I don't see. It's like Christ and His bride, it's the most unlikely of pairs__ but it's beautiful and perfect in this magnificent, almost indescribable way.
My Cowboy whispers prayers of thanks over me in the dark, and I whisper my own prayers of thanks for "here"and him.
Who wants to be pregnant (for the seventh time) on Valentines Day?
I woke up this morning aware of all that I lack.
I'm off to bed aware of all that Christ has done__ in the lives of two young kids, who knew nothing about love, and now have only touched the surface of something so sweet__that's the glory of marriage.
Happy Valentines Day!
Hoping that your day was filled with the assurance and joy of His EXTRAVAGANT love for you!
From our Farmhouse to yours!
