The day the mine collapsed, her new husband came home unscathed, covered in dirt and dust from head to toe. She counted each and every blessing as she inspected him and scrubbed him clean. Wrapped up in the desperation of newlyweds, she counted her blessings as her hands explored his body. Once they were finished, and he lay sleeping, she turned to his uniform.
She scrubbed the dark stains from his clothes, counted each one as a blessing that he came home alive, then took it out to the line to hang. Halfway through hanging his uniform, her husband came out.
“Lover of mine, the laundry can wait.” He kissed her cheek gently, the intoxication of him enough to pull her away from the chores. “Come back to bed.”
There were still more blessings to come.