Sunday morn I arose in a tiffy.
Translated this means I had a dream that my husband, brother in law and various friends coerced me into doing PCP and steal from a store I believe to have been a Hallmark. A restful Sabbath indeed.
I lay in bed cozy and warm turning over my pillow to the cold side. My anxiety lingered. It traveled it's way through the maze of my brain making stops in the usual places like a train. I remembered every bad phone call I had received. I remembered the one about my Grandpa. The one about my mom. The time we came close to losing my dad. The lighting was soft coming in through the window and my thoughts were growing darker. I realized how I'm always waiting for calls like that.
I rolled over to face Brad. He said some wonderfully cute things that I'll save just for me.
And then, "What's wrong?"
I asked if he could pray for me right then and there. I was scared at how dark my mind was becoming. I knew it was my enemy.
After he prayed I felt a little better. We chatted about my worry. He leaned over to hug me.
And then he started singing Taylor Swift.
Don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.
He sang it off key and right in my ear. My heart was filled to the brim. He would later say those lyrics came to his mind when he was praying for me. He had no idea they were my favorite nor the spiritual meaning I had given them. Forgive me for such an interpretation. Rest assured it's true meaning still lies in the gooey relationship of Team Jacob.
We shine and Satan throws rocks at us. The purpose being for harm or, in my case, to cause consuming fear and not live with joy.
For the rest of the day I relaxed with Brad. We built a fire, watched golf and ate pancakes with jam.
Just stick it to the devil when he tries that crap.