at bible study last week, when we went around the room and listed each person's gifts, i teared up before i began to speak. all i could muster was, you are a miracle worker. you make all my phone calls. every single one. what i meant to say, now that the time and space and emotions of last week have cleared, was your gift is whatever it's called when a man wakes up at four in the morning because his wife has an early meeting at work and discovered a bug in the mixing bowl and simply can't go through with the remainder of her a.m. activities until it is squashed.
when you drug your sleepy self into the bright-as-day kitchen, your soft white t-shirt twisted around your torso, it hit me that you are innately gifted in that sense. and that i love you all the more for it.