My Tal does know how to get a girl's attention.
This morning, after a fitful night here in good old Shawnee, Tal nudged my finally-sleeping body and whispered, "Got your sermon done?"
No longer sleeping, heart pumping, scrambling awake, completely panicked. Sermon ... the sermon ... what sermon?
Until retiring three years ago, I was used to that question. No matter how hard or how early in the week I worked on that recurring task, it was rare for me to go to bed on a Saturday night at the same time Tal did. I stayed up to finish (admittedly, sometimes to rewrite, sometimes even to start) the sermon.
It's been a long -- and a blessed -- time since he's asked me that Sunday-at-dawn question. I think he's really ready to go home and wanted me up.
It worked.
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