So, minutes before church yesterday, I got a call from my boss.
“Hey, instead of coming in at 5am tomorrow can you come in at 2:30am? It would really help us out.”
Talk about a sabbath day damper!
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Five hours or eight hours?”
“Up to you.”
Yeah, like I’d work 8 hours by choice after getting up in the middle of the night.
“Let’s say five. So 2:30am?”
“Actually, let’s go ahead and make it 2 o’clock.”
Yeah. Let’s just go ahead. Right. Kay. Awesome.
“Awesome. Kay. See ya tomorrow.”
So, instead of enjoying my sunday evening with Mark, I went to bed at 9pm. I should have earlier, but who wants to go to bed at 5pm?
Mark tucked me in and said a prayer with me, then went to go clean the house while I slept.
I woke up at 1:15am, a complete zombie. I noticed that Mark was still not next to me. I got up and turned on the bathroom light, and then Mark walks in and gives me the biggest hug.
He knew that staying up and seeing me off would make it easier for me to go (if he was in bed, snoozing away, I would be about 20% more bitter).
Suddenly going to work at that unearthly hour didn’t seem so horrible.
Okay, it still did. And I came home and slept until 1pm. But having him there to send me off with a prayer and a few hugs made all the difference. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel incredibly blessed to be married to this selfless, sacrificing, silly man.