This morning the hubs offered to make my coffee, as he often does. This time, I let him. Many times I don’t. He can be a little heavy-handed with the creamer, but the truth of the matter is that I’m often a nutty control freak. I’m working on letting that go. (It’s probably going to be a lifelong process.)
Anywho…then on my way to work, husband-made coffee in hand, NPRers talking on the radio, I felt an urging to call coffee-making, sleepy-eyed hubs and pray with him on my way to work. How long did I fight this urge? One long stop sign and a red lights worth of driving time. Then I realized it was probably an urging of the Holy Spirit, and I definitely shouldn’t let my sinful flesh get in the way.
So I called. And I prayed. I prayed for our day apart. For his car in the shop. For patience and wisdom at my job today. For my students and their families. For our marriage. And when I was done, my Amen was met with a resounding silence. Had he fallen back asleep? Was my prayer that bad? No, we’d simply been disconnected (by Satan). But really, doesn’t the enemy just try to tear down all that is holy and good?
Needless to say, hubs called back and I did my best to repeat what I had prayed. We said I love yous and I went back to my NPR (a depressing segment on retirement savings and social security). And the rest of the day was perfect! Just kidding. But I did feel a peace surrounding my day, and many of the conversations I had with hubs were peace-filled. Where misunderstandings typically became mountains, today they felt like surmountable mole-hills.
While I’m sure that not all days that start with coffee and prayer always turn out as positive as this one did, it certainly was encouraging to see fruit come from intentionality and obedience to the Holy Spirits promptings.