It was getting quite dark in the short winter's day when Mrs. Jones and Uncle Bob had made an end of their preparation of the old store-room. Then the little maid, long expectant, heard with pleasure the thud of the…
Published April 01, 2008 by
When I married my husband, he slept with his arms crossed over his chest. It seemed to me he was protecting his heart; it had been wounded and broken so many times. During his waking hours, he let his guard down. But, when sleeping, he still needed to protect himself, lest some threatening force invade and attack, catching him unawares.
Joe is an early riser. Typically he gets up before I do, quietly slips out of our bedroom, exercises, makes coffee (my favorite just because gift), reads the paper, and then wakes me up. Rarely do I awaken before him. But recently I did. I marveled at how peaceful he looked. He was lying on his side, one hand underneath the pillow, the other just hanging down.
His chest was wide open, not needing his protection because he finally felt safe, open, and welcoming of me. In his sleep, he reached over and wrapped his arms around me. Like two spoons in a drawer, we lay there, side by side, a perfect fit. He let me in and I was part of him, safe, next to his heart.
He’s opened his heart. He trusts I won’t break it.