Current Facebook Status [from early this morning]: is going to have several kid free hours at home today. The purpose? To do some deep cleaning. The reality? May be to take a nap ;).
Currently Playing the Background: Nothing [just finished the new Star Trek though]
Current NaNoWriMo Status: Way far behind, 13854 [may try to hit 14K before bedtime or may go to bed really really early since I didn’t get any of that naptime earlier]
Well, better late than never! Jan and I did this about 6 hours ago but then, well, the kitchen sort of caught on fire and I got distracted by that… [I didn’t do it; someone else turned the wrong burner on and it had a plastic milk jug on it at the time…] I’m nearing the halfway point in A Passion Most Pure and it is getting harder and harder to set it down. Julie Lessman rocks. Plain and simple. And she thinks I’m cute so that’s bonus points ;).
Anyway, here it is :).
She couldn’t fall asleep. All she could think about was how different her life was going to be after tomorrow. She tossed to the other side and stared at the blank white wall of the room she’d be sharing with Nick after the wedding. She was going to marry him. It was the right decision. She knew that intellectually but part of her was still warring over it. She had a peace about it most of the time and she really believed that this was what God was telling her was the right thing to do, but there was a part of her that wavered.
She and Nick were attracted to each other – she’d known that since she first sat next to him on the airplane between San Diego and Chicago. The first accidental brush of her hand against his forearm had sent chills throughout her body. The good kind of chills. The ones that had led to asking Nick to spend his storm lengthened layover at her apartment. The ones that had given her Nicky nine months later.
So there was physical attraction and the passion that went along with it. She didn’t anticipate in problems with that part of marriage. But the rest… The relational aspects of it… Nick had been watching Sunday morning preaching with her in the little safe house where they’d been moved a week after “the incident” as they’d taken to calling it. He even looked at her Bible with her when the preacher referenced it. She’d also been listening to her former pastor’s sermons on the Internet every week, having been reassured that there would be no reason for anyone to suspect that she, one of hundreds who downloaded his podcasts every week, was anyone special.