I have been married to Dan Dykstra for a decade now. I like to say "decade" because it sounds so much more mature than "ten years". It's like the tenure of marriage and makes me feel very experienced, like when a certain six year old tells me "I'm six AND A HALF."
Even though we've known each other all this time, I was not prepared for the new ways I would get to know Dan this summer. It started when my husband took a sabbatical from work. He was home a lot. He began brewing coffee every morning and inviting me to join him under the pergola for some joe.
I can't say that I jumped at the chance to join him for coffee. I'm kind of a fidgety person. When someone asks me to "sit and visit", I'd rather they asked me to help them paint their entire house with a one-haired paintbrush. Really.
So when Dan invited me to coffee, it took a while for me to realize that he's offering something simple and precious and I better take him up on it.
It started with coffee.
Then we started reading the Bible.
We didn't buy a book on how to read the Bible.
We just read the Bible.
Sometimes we'd have fantastic conversations about God and other times we'd roll our eyes at the long run-on sentences, grasping very little.
But it didn't matter because we were in it together.
Sometimes we'd talk. Sometimes it would lead to prayer.
And some mornings we'd sleep in because the outside air made us drowsy.
I love these mornings because they're simple and real and connect me with Dan and God.
This simple act of getting up together and talking, drinking, reading, praying and laughing was one of the most meaningful times we have spent together.
I don't know why I'm speaking in the past tense.
Well, maybe I do.
We' ve had a few curve balls that want to change our morning routine. The kids have had some sickness. Most recently Dan had a day which I will heretofore refer to as "the day that came from the bad place"; some health problems caused him to have an onset of seizures. I'm always sad for him when he has seizures. It produces a sleepy, foggy Dan for a few days. He's "there" but he's not. So I miss him. He's my best friend.
Today I will let him rest and visit with his parents. I won't discuss high minded things with him. I won't talk about home improvements or bills or Morgan's school work. I'll just be his companion. When his body adjusts from his recent episodes, we'll ease back into our gentle morning routine. With coffee. And laughter.
