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This morning, my Husband said to me, “I like seeing their dishes out like this.” He was talking about the striped cloth napkins folded over with the children’s place settings ready to receive oatmeal and bacon.

It wasn’t even dawn yet. I usually hear him turn on the shower at which point I get up and brush my teeth and start the coffee. I don’t want to miss waking to the shower. This is the most special time of the day to me.

It’s special because it’s uninterrupted time with my Husband. Children are sleeping, phones aren’t ringing… We just talk. Or sit in silence. Over coffee.

When I do sleep past his leaving, I feel like I’ve been wronged. Not by him. But I have wronged myself. No, I don’t beat myself up over it. He has also said he likes to watch us sleep. His provision to us, the actual masculine act of knowing he is providing a nurturing and comforting environment for us, he enjoys.

This morning, like yesterday, he didn’t want breakfast. I didn’t feed him food. But I did give him gratitude as he kissed me good-bye for the morning. As he held me, I softly said, “Thank you for all you do for us.”

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