It’s 2:30 AM and you fell asleep again on the couch because the dog was whining and you can’t block out her cries like I can. And you finally woke up and came to bed and apparently a dog howling won’t wake me, but the soft rustles of the sheets being pulled back are enough to make me bolt upright and bristle about insanely late hours as I squint at the clock and throw myself back to the mattress in a huff. I’ll have to take your word for it because I don’t remember any of it. But allegedly that’s how I react when you come to bed in the wee hours of the morning.
Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup.
You have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.
Surely, I have a delightful inheritance.