It was a lively scene as we sat around the table Saturday evening. A family prayer, laughter, and good food. Good food cooked by Verne. We had lazed around for most of the afternoon, working on a puzzle, and enjoying one another's company. I didn't feel like cooking, and Verne popped up and volunteered.
I've noticed little things lately. Little things that are actually big things, to me.
I sweep the house, and my husband grabs a cookie, dropping crumbs as he goes. I give him "the look", and insist that he get a plate to eat over.
He cleans and sweeps his van, and I bring my crochet along for the ride. I leave snips of yarn by my seat, and he never says a word.
As we ate heartily, and complimented Verne on his cooking, he looked so pleased. We were having such a good time, and we laughed so hard that I had to leave the table. And while I was in the bathroom, recovering from the laughter, the laughter turned to tears. Tears of joy. It was then that I dropped to my knees and thanked the Lord for my family, for providing for us so well, for bringing us together.