…but we’re going to the hospital anyway.

For several weeks, my children have asked, “When is it going to snow?”

After the first few times, I got a little snarky. “I don’t know. God makes the weather. Talk to Him.”

Always quick with a comeback, the youngest stomped through rain puddles he wanted to be snow drifts and declared he would indeed talk to God.

Apparently, God listened. Snow fell all day Sunday. Last night the wind began whipping it into drifts. School is delayed and we are out in it with our youngest who has pre-cath testing at the hospital in preparation for Tuesday’s heart cath.

Little Boy has been sick. His siblings are sick now. And I am weary and anxious. My contingency plans didn’t account for snow storms and sickness.

I plead for peace as we take to the wintry roads and await the nurses’ assessment of our son’s readiness for the heart cath.

Even as I share my worries and fears, I thank God, too, for the many blessings He’s poured out this past week. These little mementos of past faithfulness bolster my confidence in Him and what lies ahead this week.

26. My boss’s kind words, willingness to listen, and wisdom

27. A friend’s phone call and mutual encouragement

28. A long, candid conversation that put some issues to rest

29. A husband who welcomes my outpouring of frustrations and worries and gives wise advice

30. A long drive alone with my husband and the uninterrupted talk

31. Dinner with an old friend

32. Laughing with friends – so healing

33. The generosity of our church family as we prepare for a few days at the hospital

34. The glow of Christmas lights on freshly-fallen snow

35. The with-us God who came so unexpectedly, and the brave man and woman who believed and obeyed when they learned they would be this God-man’s earthly parents.

36. My husband’s hard work to better insulate our water pipes

37. A quiet moment to stand on the front porch and soak up the beauty of fresh snow at night

38. A quiet hour snuggling with my little boy

39.This song by the band Downhere: A Beggar Who Gives Alms.

I am not the creator, but a scribe with a pen
I’m recreating visions through a cracked and broken lens

Gold and silver have I none, but such I have give Thee
Borrowed words from the One who gave the gift to me
The pearl that I could never buy, this life, this dream, this song
And I am just a beggar who gives alms

P.S. I have selected winners to last week’s Christa Wells CD giveaway, but with sick children and hospital preparations, I haven’t had a chance to draft a winners post. I’ll be in touch with winners as soon as I can.

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