Sweet Little Mama

My long-time readers may recall that Allyson has been begging for a cat for a couple of years, and that when Ethan got Arwen about this time last year, I promised her a cat of her own in a year or two. Every now and then, she reminds me, and I usually respond with faint promises, like a campaigning politician.

Well, I have a feeling she must have been praying about this, and I think God answered her prayer in a most mysterious way. One Tuesday evening around the first of the month, I found a young cat in our yard. I walked slowly toward it, crouching low and holding out a hand. I expected it to run, but instead it walked cautiously up to me and nuzzled my hand. Oh, it was cute, a little white kitty with big eyes and rather bony ribs. My heart went out to it.

"Are you hungry?" I crooned. "Stay here and I'll get you some food."

I filled one small plastic bowl with Arwen's food and another with cold water, and then I went to Ethan's room. "Hey, come see the kitty in our front yard." 

He hurried out to the yard ahead of me. "Aww," he said. "It doesn't have a collar. Can we keep it?" 

"Well, we're going to feed it. I think that's one way to get a cat. Maybe it can be an outdoor cat." 

We set the food and water down on a flat rock halfway between our driveway and the kitten's spot under our neighbor's tree. It didn't make a move.

Ethan crept over and held out a hand. The cat pressed against his hand, rubbing it with its scent. He petted it for a couple of minutes, and then I convinced him to come inside so that it would hopefully eat the food. 

"So will we keep it?" Ethan asked. 

"We'll see if it comes back," I answered. "If we keep feeding it, I guess it will be ours."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I knew I couldn't let that little kitty starve. The next day, I watched for our little visitor, but it didn't return. I guess I was a little relieved. But Allyson was pretty crestfallen when I told her the whole story after school. 

"See, it was right here," I said, pointing to the spot under the tree. Right where I was pointing, I spotted something tiny, brown, and furry. A dead rat? 

Gingerly, I leaned in for a closer view. No, it was a baby squirrel, no bigger than my hand. A couple of iridescent green flies hovered over its eyes and mouth. "Oh, look, Allyson!" I said, extending an arm to keep her from stepping on it. "A dead squirrel. But isn't it cute?" 

"Aww!" she cried. "I've never seen a baby squirrel before."

"Me either," I said. "Poor little thing." 

Allyson ran to our neighbor's open garage, where Steve was visiting with our other neighbor Neil, my "30-second hero."

"Come and see the dead baby squirrel," she said.

"Nnnnh," said Steve. 

Neil, an "Arkansas boy" who loves squirrels--but also traps them and carries them away because they like to destroy his attic--came over to have a look. "Aww, so cute. I've never seen one that small.... Hey, wait a minute. It's alive." 

"Are you sure?" I asked, bending lower.

"Yes, it's breathing, but just barely." 

Sure enough, its tiny side was heaving. Neil shooed away the flies and carefully picked it up. He cupped it in one palm, petting it gently with one finger. It seemed to rally, opening its eyes for a moment. 

"Can you take care of it?" Allyson asked. 

"Yes, can you? You're the squirrel expert," I said. 

"We'll see. I'm sure it's dehydrated. Do you have an eyedropper?"

"No, but I have some medicine syringes. Will that work?"

"Probably. I'll go get some almond milk."

While Neil got the milk and I hunted for the syringe, Allyson gathered all the neighborhood kids. Two minutes later, we all trooped into my kitchen, where Allyson heated the milk and I tested it on the inside of my wrist. I felt that dull pang that I feel each time I remember that I'm too old to have any more babies. 

With five kids and one fluttery woman looking on, Neil fed that baby some milk. See how it clutched the syringe, just like a baby holding a bottle. 

After we'd oohed and ahhed for a couple more minutes, Neil and the squirrel took their leave. I laughed. "I guess you've got yourself a baby squirrel," I said.

"Mmm," he answered. And I knew what he must have been thinking. As an airline pilot, he's gone about as much as he's home. How could he care for a baby squirrel?

Allyson and I took off then on some errand or other, and when we returned, we hurried to Steve's garage. There was the baby squirrel, wrapped in one of Steve's hand towels. Neil informed us that it had taken a bit more milk and was now sleeping. 

"I was thinking," he said. "I think you guys need to take it. Honestly, it probably won't survive, but you should try. It would be fun for your kids." 

"Mmm," I answered, battling the pulling in my heart. As a busy single mom, how could I possibly care for a baby squirrel? Oh, but it was cute! And utterly helpless. And hadn't I just returned from my HeartQuest determined to start taking chances and really living life? 

"Okay, we'll take it," I said. "There's always the Internet."

Allyson clapped her hands, and may have jumped up and down too. Neil placed the little bundle into her eager hands. 

Worried about Arwen's hunting instincts, we shut ourselves in my bedroom. Allyson looked the squirrel over while I ran some Google searches. 

I quickly learned:

• There isn't a squirrel rescue organization near us. 
• A baby squirrel's biggest dangers are hypothermia and dehydration.
• Wrapping a baby squirrel in a towel doesn't help because it doesn't generate its own body heat. You need to put it in a small box, lined with a towel, and put that on a heating pad. 
• A baby squirrel shouldn't drink anything but water or Pedialyte until it is well hydrated. Giving it milk is too exhausting because it requires energy to digest. 
• Baby squirrels need to eat every two to three hours.

Reading over my shoulder, Allyson said, "I can do that.... I can do that...." 

But when I got to this fact...

• After each feeding, you should wipe the squirrel's rectum with a moist, warm cotton ball. This stimulates it to pee and poop.

she said, "I am NOT doing that! You'll have to do it." 

I sighed. "Oh, God," I thought. "What have I gotten myself into?" 

But I guess it was worth all the bother to see Allyson's joy. 

"Look, it's a boy," she said, pointing to his little... nuts. 

"Yes, I think you're right," I said. I took a good long look at his intricate body, the tiny curved claws, the thin tail, the delicate nostrils. "Everything you make is beautiful," I prayed silently. "He is fearfully and wonderfully made." 

"Let's name him Peanut," Allyson said.

"Sure, baby. Now we have to get out the heating pad and go buy some Pedialyte." 

We drug out Arwen's cat carrier, a shoe box, and my miniature heating pad (a hand warmer that Santa brought me a few years back). Just then, Ethan and his friend Bryce came home, and we showed them Peanut.

"Cool!" Ethan said.

"Cute!" Bryce said.

I settled Peanut into his new home and plugged in the heating pad. 

Twenty minutes later, I warmed the Pedialyte and filled a syringe. 

"Can I feed him?" Allyson asked.

"If you're careful," I said.

I unlatched the cat carrier and drew Peanut gently out. My heart sank. He was gone, already cold and stiff. 

"He died, baby," I said.

Allyson heaved a sigh. "Well, we tried." 

We went next door again to get Neil, who helped us bury Peanut in the same place where we laid Fluffy to rest last November. (I really need to remember to buy a shovel.) Surrounded by the neighbor kids, I said a short prayer thanking God for allowing us to spend this time with sweet Peanut and for taking such good care of him in Heaven. 

Okay, so what does all this have to do with Allyson's cat? I'm getting to that. 

Over the next few days, although I didn't consciously think about it, something changed in my heart. My mind was still rather set against a second cat, but... 

"I think we can look for a kitten after the holidays, when you get back from Canada," I told Allyson one afternoon. 

"Really?!"

"I think so."

"I want a little kitty, so it can get attached to me and not be scared like Arwen," she said.

"We'll pray about it. God knows just what kitty we need." 

Fast forward to a weekly meeting Tuesday before last.  The first thing my friends Joe and Lauren said to me, after "Hello, Sarah," was "Say, would you want a kitten?" 

The words came out of their own accord. "Um, yes. I think I might."

Lauren pulled out her phone and showed me the cutest, teeniest kitty, about three weeks old. "We've been syringe feeding it," she said. "It was abandoned." 

Oh boy. "Can I pray about it and let you know next week?" I asked. They agreed. 

The next day, I told Allyson that we might be getting a tiny kitten. And you can imagine what happened next.

Yep, there was no peace for me for a solid week. She wanted to see pictures. She wanted to know if the kitty was still available. And why, oh why, hadn't I gotten Lauren's phone number so she could send us pictures? 

Through that week, we did a lot of praying. We prayed for God's will, that he would work it out for us to have this kitten if it was the right one. Each time we prayed that, Allyson added in a tiny voice, "But you know I really want this cat. Still, we want your will, God." And then we prayed that God would help the little kitty grow big and strong.

"This kitty was abandoned," Allyson prayed. "Please let it be loved. And help it know that it is loved. And if this is our kitty, please help us be prepared for it, not like when we got the hermit crabs." 

Allyson didn't only pray about being prepared; she took action. She spent every spare moment researching how to care for kittens. These are the meticulous notes she took:

Those are food stains. She left this in the kitchen.

At long last, the week passed and it was time for my weekly meeting again. Allyson and her friend Ellie came along this time, and afterward we looked at about 50 pictures on Lauren's phone. Allyson was ecstatic. "This is just the kind of kitten I had pictured," she said, referring to its gray and white fur. "God knew exactly what kitten to send me." 

"I'm not sure whether Allyson wants the kitty," I teased. "Maybe she wants another one."

She socked me in the arm. "No, I want this one!" she squealed. 

We went to see our cat in person the next night, bringing Allyson's friends Ellie and Alivia along. We stayed about 30 minutes, and Allyson got to feed it kitten formula with a syringe. Like the baby squirrel, the kitten clutched the syringe with both paws. She got shockingly dirty despite being wrapped tightly in a hand towel.

Oh, if you could have experienced the love!

Ethan was pretty smitten, too. But then they started arguing about names, just like when we got Arwen. Allyson wanted Tootsie or Sugar, which Ethan thought were dumb names. I reminded him that he got to choose Arwen's name, and Allyson reminded him that she had hated that name at first. 

In the end, she asked her friends to help her think of names, and then she polled our family and all the neighbor kids. The winning suggestion was Cookies & Cream, or CiCi for short. 

We agreed to pick up CiCi in one week, which will be next Wednesday. By then, Lauren thinks she will be eating wet food because her sharp little teeth are starting to come in. She said the vet's office where she works will provide the first shots, and she will give us all the things we need. (One of Allyson's prayers: answered.) 

Since then, I've been amazed at Allyson's little mama's heart. Here are a few of the things she has prayed:

• That God will show us how to care for this little kitty.
• That CiCi will not be afraid of her.
• That Arwen won't feel the way kids sometimes do when a new baby is born, that we will not forget her but instead show her lots of love. (I thought this was pretty impressive since she often complains that Arwen hates her.) 
• That Arwen won't hurt CiCi, and that she will be a good big sister, like a mama. 

Most of all, she's rejoicing over this gift. 

I'm still a little scared about caring for such a tiny kitty, but I'm also excited over the adventure of it. I feel an assurance that God did bring us this little cat, and that He carefully prepared my heart so that I wouldn't miss the opportunity. I can't wait to see Allyson caring for her cat. I'm sure I'll have more adventures to share in the next few weeks.

All you cat lovers out there, do you have any advice for us? 

More Beautiful Than a Sunrise

Week before last, I spent six days on a spiritual retreat called HeartQuest, completely unplugged from civilization. With 28 total strangers, I boarded a bus for a ranch in the Texas Hill Country, where we would steal away with our Beloved.

I won't share the details of what we did there because our time was sacred. But I will tell you that I came home with 28 sisters, all cherished daughters of the King. Here are some of my favorite memories of my time with God....

On Thursday, I set off at sunrise to find the place where God was calling me to spend the day alone with Him. I was excited but also nervous because I wondered how I would hear His leading. I walked straight down the ranch house drive, a backpack on my back and a camp chair slung over one shoulder. "Should I go left or right?" I whispered. "Or just keep going straight?"

All I heard was birds chirping.

As I waited for direction, I couldn't keep my eyes off the sunrise. Looking to the east, my eyes fell on a little drive. I was drawn to it, as if following it would take me closer to the rising sun. But I hadn't heard the Voice of God. "Is it okay to go this way?" I asked.

All I heard was the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.

Squinting against the sun, I struggled to breathe against the gathering tightness in my chest. "How will I know where you want me to go?" I asked, not bothering to hide my frustration. "I don't hear anything."

A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks. "Why is it so hard to hear you?"

Just then, I spotted a white and black metal sign: Keep Out.

I laughed out loud and wiped my nose with the back of my hand as I turned in my tracks. "Okay, that's pretty clear guidance."

With that rueful laughter, all the tension drained away and I began to just enjoy walking on these gorgeous grounds. I stopped listening so hard and just let my feet take me where they wanted to go. I squeezed through a crack next to the large iron gate, crossed the country road, and followed some wheel ruts that could pass for a road. Both sides of the road were wooded, with rather squat trees and a few cactus plants.

 After a few hundred yards, I lurched abruptly to the right, headed into the woods. I hiked due west, but didn't stray too far from the wheel-rut road; I've always had a fear of being lost in the woods. I set up my purple chair under a circle of evergreen trees. The branches were only sparsely covered, but they were still pretty, and later I would be thankful for their modest shade.

I'd just settled into my chair when six or seven deer trotted past. I could barely glimpse them through the trees, but I could make out a couple of does and some fawns. One of the does froze, nose lifted in the air as she searched me out. A moment later, they all ran deeper into the woods, their hooves thundering softly on the pine needles that cushioned the ground.

Tears pricked my eyes as I sang softly, "As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee. You alone are my heart's desire, and I long to worship thee."

I thanked God for sending the deer and asked Him if he could send some a little closer so I could get a better look.

Over the next few hours, I didn't see any deer, but I did see an assortment of baby trees ranging from two inches to about three feet tall. They were so cute, these miniature trees with nearly adult-sized leaves. One tiny tree had just four leaves which dwarfed its spindly branches. I thought of all the Bible verses about trees and imagined my own growth, my gradual transformation into an "oak of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor." (Isaiah 61:3)

As I examined a tree trunk intently during a short hike, a lizard startled me, and I cried out. It darted away to safety before I could get a good look at it, and I was disappointed. But God graciously sent me another lizard later while I sat in my chair inside the circle of trees. It stood at the foot of my chair as if it were posing for me. Instead of cringing as I usually do when I spot anything lizard-like, I marveled at its tiny snout, tail, and clawed feet.

Several times throughout the day, I noticed what appeared to be a hawk circling lazily overhead. (I later learned it was a turkey vulture, but I prefer to think of it as a hawk.) As I admired its effortless flight, I praised God for the way His creatures delight in doing what they were made to do. That's how I feel when I write, and even more so when I open my heart to love someone.

I also saw a jackrabbit at one point. Its tall, pointed ears were definitely rabbit-like, but I was shocked to see it walking on all fours rather than hopping. It was most peculiar and quite cute.

The only creatures I did not enjoy were the gnats that buzzed relentlessly in my ears and nose. I figured they must have some spiritual meaning, like how we have to persevere and push past the distractions that pull our focus from God's purpose in our lives.

It was an imaginary creature who made me laugh at myself. A city girl to the core, I haven't had much experience with peeing outside. The first time, I didn't take gravity into account, and I ended up making a puddle right behind my heels. The second time, I felt pretty clever when I found a gentle slope and tried to pee downhill. However, I'd been drinking so much water and Gatorade that I--well, let's just say that the stream was so strong that it defied gravity and probably splashed a bit onto my jeans. [Men, count your blessings.] The third time, I went back to my gentle slope and bent into a deep plié, with my behind just an inch or two off the ground so as to minimize the splashing.

I'd just started peeing when a tuft of grass tickled my butt. Thinking it was a bug, I lurched forward, spraying pee onto my shoes. Aiyee! There was no one to laugh with but God, and we shared a good chuckle. It reminded me of the first time I had shared a joke with God.

The best moment came at the end of the day, while I was engrossed in reading some notes from friends and family that brought me tears of joy. When a loud snort interrupted my reverie, I looked up to see a proud, magnificent buck staring right at me. He was standing in a clearing, maybe 50 feet away. I caught my breath, eyes wide with wonder. After ten seconds or so, he snorted again and galloped away.

In all the day's adventures, I'd forgotten my morning prayer, but God hadn't. He'd even prompted that deer to catch my attention so I wouldn't miss the moment. "Oh, thank you," I breathed. I felt certain now that I'd found exactly the spot God had chosen for me.

Early Morning Rendezvous

Two days later, I awoke long before 6, much earlier than I'd planned. I lay in bed for a good 30 minutes, trying vainly to fall back to sleep. At home, when I wake up in the dark, I figure God wants to talk to me. But at the ranch, I shared a room with three other women, and there was no cozy prayer closet, only a cold hallway. "Can we talk later? I'm really sleepy," I prayed silently.

At last, I gave up and drug myself out of bed. As I pulled on my clothes by the light of my flashlight, a wonderful thought occurred to me. I could watch the sun rise! It would be so amazing to see it peeping over the horizon across the wide open field. I hurriedly gathered my Bible and journal and padded down the stairs and into the darkness, grabbing a camp chair off the porch.

I set up my chair next to the ranch drive, just at the edge of the meadow, and watched the sky intently. Slowly, slowly, the blackness gave way to gray light. Where was the sun?  Could I be facing the wrong direction? I thought of the time my friend Angela and I had stayed at Hideaway Ranch. We watched the most gorgeous sunset over the back porch of our cabin, and then watched for the sunrise on that same porch! We were so mad at ourselves when we remembered that the sun rises on the opposite horizon from where it sets.

This time, I was certain. I distinctly remembered admiring the sunrise across that same meadow.

While I waited, I talked with Jesus. I shared something that was heavy on my heart, and I felt a peaceful assurance that He was not only going to take care of everything, but that His plan for this situation would end in a beautiful picture of His grace.

After 20 minutes or so, several of our leaders emerged from the gray darkness, walking down the long drive toward the main house. "Sarah, is that you?" one called. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the sunrise," I answered.

"Oh, I don't think there will be much to see today," Toni said. (Or maybe it was Ginny; it was hard to tell in the darkness.) "Too many clouds."

I smiled. Surely God hadn't woken me up and brought me out here if there wasn't going to be a sunrise. Besides, don't the clouds usually make a sunrise even more colorful?

After another ten minutes, I had to admit that Toni was right. It was now fully light, but there was not a hint of color on the horizon. Instead, there were many, many shades of gray. I had to laugh. A gray sunrise!

And then it dawned on me (so to speak). The beauty of this silent morning wasn't in the sunrise. It wasn't even in the birds chirping. The beauty was Him. He had called me out there to spend time with Him.

Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
and bring her into the wilderness,
and speak tenderly to her. (Hosea 2:14)

"Thank you that there was no sunrise," I prayed, my cheeks wet with tears. "If there had been, I would have been distracted. You are so much more beautiful than a sunrise, Beloved."

I want to carry the beauty of that gray sunrise the rest of my days.

Loving Our Sweet Mindy

Today we will bury my beloved niece Mindy, the daughter of my brother Rick and his wife Diane, the little sister of my nephew Mitchell and the heart sister of Mitchell's wife Michelle. She passed away unexpectedly this past Thursday from a medical condition no one knew she had, only two months after her 25th birthday.

There is so much on my heart to share about Mindy; it's hard to know where to begin....

Mindy was such a sweetheart. I don't mean that in the trite way. She really had a sweet, sweet heart. She was gentle and kind, and she loved her whole family, from her grandparents to her cousins and their children.

Mindy was quiet and laid back, but she wasn't shy. I've heard over and over the last few days that Mindy could light up a room, and that is true. It was her dazzling smile, which I always felt was especially for me. Each time I came to Rick's for a family gathering, I rounded the corner to the kitchen to find Mindy at the stove, trying out a new recipe that I knew would be delicious. Her whole face would light up because she was delighted to see me. I felt like the guest of honor no matter how many people were there. And I suspect we all felt that way.

She had a dry, irreverent sense of humor like her father, and she could always make me laugh. I loved to listen to their banter.

Oh how she loved dogs. I've never seen someone who loved them more. I'm not a dog person, but the love she lavished on her two Dachshunds made me wish that I were. Howie and Chloe were her joy.

Mindy and Howie

From a very young age, Mindy loved travel. She's a big part of so many of my best family vacation memories. She camped with us, went to San Antonio with us, and flew to Canada with us twice. Having her along added so much joy for us because that girl just really knew how to have fun. She loved any kind of outdoor activity, and I had the privilege of watching her learn to water ski, wake board, rock climb, and snowboard. She wasn't exactly fearless; she was certainly nervous. But she didn't let fear stop her from having fun, and whatever it was, she was confident that she could do it.

Probably my favorite picture of Mindy -
Sledding with Uncle Bill in Vancouver

On the Vancouver trip when she learned to snowboard, she spent a lot of time on her behind, as all people do when they are learning. Yet she still managed to talk me down one steep hill when I kept having those wipe-outs where your skis go flying. "You can do it, Aunt Sarah! Don't give up," she called, as she drug herself back to her feet. When we finally made it to the bottom, we laughed over the irony of a niece coaching her aunt.

I wish I had time to tell you all the stories stored up in my heart. I'd like to share one silly one that maybe no one else knows. Mindy posted this comment on a blog entry I'd written about running a country convenience store back when she was a very small girl (about 9):

Oh man do I remember those burgers, they were to die for! My memories of Mitchell and I staying out there with y'all are vague but one really sticks out in my mind. When he would bully me or give me a hard time, I would write it all down so that I could tell my parents when we got back and they could punish him for all of the horrible things: "Mitchell hit my arm", "Mitchell called me stupid 2 times", "Mitchell told me to to shut up!". Lol I think by the time I got home I was so excited to see my parents that I forgot all about it.

I'm happy to say that she and Mitchell worked through their differences and have been dear friends for years now.

My favorite recent memory of Mindy is the pasta cooking lesson we attended with Rick in December 2012.

Rick, Me, Mindy

Family Pasta Night at Rick's
Family Friend David in the Back

It had been less than a month since Bill and I separated, and I was hurting terribly. Mindy was a normal, busy college student, and it was the Christmas season, yet she made time to spend a whole Tuesday evening with her aunt. Laughing with her and Rick was medicine for my torn heart.

Mindy and I developed a closer bond over the next couple of years. She was compassionate and kind, always concerned for me. She didn't necessarily say a lot, but she had a way of drawing me out. She was a great listener, and a cheerleader for me as my heart began to mend and I started enjoying life again.

We loved to talk about cooking and about eating. She shared my love for vegetarian meals, and we liked to swap recipes.

Mindy was a strong, determined young lady. She had some struggles with college, and it took her some time to find the right direction. But she stuck with it for seven years and finally achieved her goal this past spring. I was more proud of her than I could have been if she had breezed through it in four years.

I don't know how we can bear losing our sweet Mindy, but of course we must. Rick shared his concern last night that because Mindy was the glue that brought the family together, that we might drift apart. Mindy was the one who thought up activities and arranged them. She was the one who organized the cancer walks.

Me, Rick, Diane, Mindy - Undy 5000

We agreed that this was Mindy's legacy. She loved family. I think it was because of the ordeal of Rick's colon cancer in her mid teens. She visited him every day after school, and she sat with him during every infusion. She never forgot what it was like to almost lose her daddy, and she never took any of her family for granted.

Last night we vowed to honor Mindy's memory by making our family time a priority from this point on. Right now we need each other desperately, but truly we always need each other.

These last few days have been a good start. The love binding us together has been palpable. We've hugged each other tighter, and much longer--way beyond the usual quick squeeze. We've added kisses to the hugs. We've rubbed backs and squeezed shoulders. We've said, "I love you so much."

In the middle of her own loss, Diane has comforted her nieces and nephews, speaking words of affirmation and hope.

Diane with Susie, Allyson, and Halle

I see the same strength in her that held her family together during Rick's illness. Here is what Mindy said about that in a comment on one of my blog entries titled Circle of Strength:

I love that you wrote this. I vividly remember that day.
I never really stopped to think about just how much of a Mama Bear that my mom was during that time but you described it perfectly. She was (and still is) definitely the rock in our family. When my dad was suffering, I was falling apart and Mitchell was shutting down, she kept herself and us together.

Diane is still a Mama Bear, but I pray she will realize now that she doesn't have to be strong. She is surrounded by people who love her, and we are still a Circle of Strength. I've never been more thankful for the love of my family. This is surely a treasure in the darkness. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5)

Mindy, we are so thankful that we had 25 beautiful years with you. You touched our lives deeply and we will never forget you.

A Sacred Echo for Allyson

Last Sunday, I brought Allyson to a monthly worship service at a local church. It was my second time to attend this service, called Habitation, and I knew that Allyson would love the music. Still, it was hard to convince her to come along because the only other time she'd been to a branch of this church, she had not enjoyed the Sunday School.

"This time, you'll be in the service with me," I explained.

"I just really hate that church," she said. But she grudgingly agreed to come along.

When we arrived, I was thrilled to see that my friend Wendy had brought her daughter Hayden, who is about the same age as Allyson. All through the service, when the two of them weren't standing with hands raised to heaven, they were huddled together in their seats, heads together.

The worship was just as thrilling as I'd remembered, but this time it was even sweeter with my mom on one side and my daughter on the other.

This was a special presbytery service, which included words of encouragement and prayer over individuals in the congregation. Even though no one in our group was singled out, I still enjoyed hearing the words given to others, having received permission to "steal" any message that resonated with my own spirit. But as time wore on, I feared that Allyson would become bored with all that talking.

After the service, Allyson begged to visit the gift shop because she said she had some money she was just itching to spend. It was getting late, and we still needed to drive Mom home, but Allyson managed to wear me down.

After five or ten minutes of shopping, she selected a scripture journal for the low, low price of $9.99. She jubilantly explained that she'd initially passed this journal by, thinking it would be too expensive, but it turned out to be cheaper than the one she'd planned to settle on. "What a blessing!" she said.

We hadn't even left the parking lot before she discovered another blessing. "It has my favorite verse on page one!" she announced. "See? 'I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' It's Psalm 139."

"That's wonderful, baby!" I answered, grinning over the joy of sharing my favorite Bible chapter with my 8-year-old daughter. It's no wonder, since I've been quoting it to her since she was a toddler. As soon as she could speak, she began quoting it with me.

Allyson exulted over that verse most of the way to her Aunt Emily's house, where Mom had left her car. When we arrived, she talked me into going inside for a drink of water even though it was after 9 by now.

Inside, Allyson's eyes fell on a picture on the kitchen counter, a Sunday School paper belonging to her little cousin Charlie. She read the verse at the top of the page aloud: "God made me wonderful."

"Hey! Isn't that...?" She snatched the paper off the counter. "Yes! That's Psalm 139. I thought it sounded like the same verse."

I smiled, touching her shoulder. "Allyson, do you know what this is? It's a sacred echo!"

"Yes, it is a sacred echo," she agreed. "It's my very first one!"

On our way out the door, Allyson told Aunt Emily and Uncle Paul some of the stories we'd heard about prophecies fulfilled. She was still calling out last words over her shoulder as I led her to the car.

"Wow, you were really paying attention," I said.

"I wasn't just sitting there, Mama," she answered.

I laughed. "I figured you might have been bored."

"No, it was awesome. I loved all of it," she said. "I want to go again next month."

Allyson exulted over that sacred echo all the way home. "I know God must have led me to that book," she said. "I didn't even think I could afford it."

"I'm glad you found it," I said.

"God must really want me to think about that verse," she continued. "What does He want me to know?"

"Yes," I agreed. "He must be telling you something,"

She was silent for a mile or so.

"Maybe He wants me to know... Well, you know how sometimes I wonder if I am pretty enough?"

I bit my tongue, afraid to interrupt. No, I did not know my daughter was already wondering that in third grade. "Mmm hmm?" I murmured.

"Well, I think he wants me to know that I am beautiful because He made me just the way He wants me. I am beautiful on the inside."

It was all I could do to keep from pounding the steering wheel and hollering, "YES!!!" Instead, I said, "Yes, Allyson. You are so beautiful. It's not because of how you look, even though you are very pretty. It's your heart. God made your heart so beautiful."

"Yes," she said. "God made us all beautiful."

After another block or two of silence, she said, "I'm so glad that I went tonight. If I hadn't gone, I would have missed the scripture journal and the sacred echo. I was so set against going to that church, but I was wrong. God knew I needed to be there."

At home, she wrote her very first journal entry. She wrote out a prayer, asking God to help her be willing to try things more than once, even when she thinks she doesn't like something.

It's so exciting to see my little girl learning such vital truths about herself and about her maker. I pray she continues to have a heart to hear God's voice.

First Day of School and a Few Other Stories

After two weeks of school, I'm finally posting first-day-of-school photos. Enjoy....

Allyson with Mrs. D, already dearly loved

Wearing her thrift-store sequined blouse and the vest from her birthday

First-Day-of-School ice cream, which Ethan likes almost as much
as Last-Day-of-School ice cream (but not quite)

Ethan, Bill, Allyson, Meggie

I was proud that Allyson chose her thrift-store blouse, a souvenir from our recent Hill Country vacation, for the first day of third grade. She's most excited about the after-school clubs this year, including art and drama, as well as theater class once a week. I'm sure her acting career will really take off this year. 

Can you believe little Ethan is now a senior? Neither can I. He's growing up so fast. Last week he announced he wanted to apply for a job. He'd heard that a favorite hamburger joint was hiring, and I drove him over one evening to apply. "What should I say?" he asked.

"Just say, 'Hello. Are you accepting applications?'" I advised.

So that's what he did, while Allyson and I watched from the car. Every day, Allyson asks if he has turned in his application, and I tell her, "No, he hasn't filled it out yet." One step at a time.

A Little Arwen News

And now for an update on our sweet kitty, Arwen. She has become much more social, wonderful company for me. She no longer hides from all visitors, and occasionally she even lets them pet her for a moment. 

She is also an accomplished hunter. It's not uncommon to find dismembered bug parts in random spots. I always cringe but then wonder why it's not that gross to see a bug leg on the ground. Any other kind of leg would be revolting or even horrifying, but when I see a bug leg, I think, "Oh good. It's dead." And, "Where's the rest of it? Ugh." 

I shudder to think what's down my shower drain. Every chance Arwen gets, she nudges the shower door open and knocks the cover off the drain. Then she crouches over the hole, standing guard for up to an hour at a time. 

My shower isn't quite as dirty as it looks.
Let's say it's the bad lighting and the shadows.
And the cheap plastic floor that's impossible to clean. 

Sometimes she pokes a paw down there, and sometimes she puts her nose into the opening.

One morning a few weeks back, I came across a small grass snake in my kitchen and almost fainted before I realized it was dead. I left it there, waiting for Ethan to wake up and dispose of it for me. In the meantime, Arwen carted it off to the garage. 

When Ethan woke up, he said no way was he going to touch a snake. So my cousin Jenny, who was visiting from Indiana, bravely knocked it into a dustpan and threw it away in the kitchen trash. Ugh!

30-Second Hero

Lately, I've gotten into several scrapes, so much so that I'm beginning to think there's no point making plans because my day so often goes nothing like I planned it. For example, a couple weeks ago at 11 PM, my garage door wouldn't close. This was a true disaster because Arwen's litter box is in the garage, and we want to keep her an inside cat. My kind neighbors Neil and Steve came and screwed in a loose bolt, and then Neil fixed the garage door opener the next day. And then this past Sunday, Neil jump started my car... twice. (It turned out to be just a dead battery, thankfully.) 

The biggest emergency happened yesterday. Somehow, my master bathroom door got locked with no one in it. At first I blamed it on Allyson, but then I remembered going in the bathroom after I'd dropped her at school. So the culprit had to have been me. 

I wasn't too concerned at first. In fact, I saw it as an opportunity to learn new skills, remembering my friend Gentle's encouragement about that when I was newly single. First I poked a paperclip into the hole on the knob, and then the tip of a ball point pen, and then a small screw driver (at the suggestion of a coworker that I was having a phone meeting with). 

Nothing I tried worked, and I was getting anxious because I needed to brush my teeth and change clothes before a lunch date with one of my neighborhood friends. (My closet is inside the bathroom.) So I texted Kim and asked her to give me a couple more minutes.

I raced over to Neil's house and rang the bell, Thankfully, he wasn't busy and was happy to rescue me yet again. He'd had plenty of experience with picking inside locks, so this would be a piece of cake. Only it wasn't. He worked on it for 15 minutes with several implements he'd brought over, including an even smaller screw driver. 

Kim was on her way over, so we agreed to try again when I got back from lunch. While we were eating, Neil sent a text about locking himself out of his own bathroom, which had the same type of knob, and then easily opening it with a homemade slim jim. "I want another opportunity to be a 30 second hero," he said. "Call me when you get in."

He worked on the knob another 20 minutes or so while I worked at my computer. He even took apart another doorknob to reverse engineer it and figure out how to pop that lock. All of his efforts were to no avail, though. 

"You know," I mused. "I've always wondered if it's as easy to break a door down as it looks on TV." 

"You don't want to do that," he said. "The door would be expensive to replace." 

"Oh, come on," I urged. "It would be fun." 

"No, I'm not going to break your door." 

His next idea was to call our other neighbor over. Steve had the "key" that had come with his own bathroom lock. Yay! 

...But it was the wrong size. Steve took off to get ready for work, and Neil tried all the tools one more time before admitting defeat. Finally, he asked if I'd mind him knocking the doorknob off if he promised to replace it. 

"Go ahead," I said. "I really need to brush my teeth." (By now it was 2:00 in the afternoon.) 

So I covered my ears and watched him bludgeon that stubborn knob with my pink hammer (compliments of Gentle, who had painted it for me and put it into a cute little toolbox which she'd decorated with an S). 

Neil apologized several times and said he felt like a failure for not being able to open that door, but I assured him that this had been quite an adventure, though I rather wished I'd been the one to smash the doorknob. 

Not only did Neil replace the doorknob a couple of hours later, but he even went to Home Depot to buy it for me. Now that's a good neighbor, and a two-hour hero. 

One Beautiful Moment at a Time

As always, I've been saving up so many stories, but there's only time for one. Here it is....

The week of July 20th (over a month ago now), we set off on our first family vacation since the divorce (unless you count our giant family vacation to Oklahoma the spring break before last). I was nervous about a lot of things, like packing up the car without Bill's expert help, and planning the itinerary on my own. I chose a remote cabin in the Texas Hill Country, but beyond that I left it a little loose, figuring each of us could choose an activity from the Texas vacation magazine we'd borrowed from Bill. There were so many activities in the Hill Country region, all clustered around our little dot on the map, a town called Kyle. 

I put the most planning into our meals. We had a limited budget, and I didn't want to blow the bulk of it on restaurant meals. Over the course of the preceding week, I'd made three oven meals for the freezer so that we could have dinner at the cabin each night. The frozen meals would keep the cooler extra cold for the eggs, milk, and fruit that I'd bought for our breakfasts. I felt so clever, and thrifty! Surely I would have made Dave Ramsey proud. But I'd forgotten what often happens to the best laid plans....

The Saturday before we left, Allyson was with Bill and Ethan was with his father, Byron. I picked up my niece, Savannah, that morning so that she could help me get ready for the trip and also help with some housework. We worked hard all that day, checking off one cleaning task at a time from the giant list I had made. Savannah was a huge help. I enjoyed spending a whole day with her, and especially going to the Saturday service with her. What a joy to worship together! 

I spent most of Saturday evening packing and going over all my lists. Sometime around 11, Allyson and I sat down at the computer to map our route. We could scarcely contain our excitement as we looked at pictures of the cabin and read about the amenities, including a river running right through the ranch. But then I discovered something really awful: there was no kitchen, just a "kitchenette" including a tiny antique sink, a dorm fridge, and a small microwave. What? No oven? Nooo!

I ran to the kitchen and put two of the meals into the oven, and then pulled the frozen broccoli chicken casserole out of the deep freeze to thaw in the refrigerator overnight. Now I'd have to get up an hour and a half earlier to bake it and let it cool a bit before packing it in the cooler. Argh!!

It was around 1 when I collapsed into my bed. After what seemed like only a moment, the alarm went off and I woke up cranky and stressed. I quickly hit my next snag. There was no way to fit all that food into our rather petite cooler, and now that the meals weren't frozen, I didn't feel good about leaving any of them out of refrigeration for the four-hour drive. I ran to a neighbor's to see if I could borrow a mini cooler but had no luck. So I thought hard and arrived at a great solution: 

...a cake carrier and a Ziploc bag full of ice. It was the perfect size for the meatloaf and the casserole. Who says I don't have any common sense? 

After I'd put together the makeshift cooler, Savannah helped me cram the real cooler, the camp stove, the electric griddle, our bags, and a few other things into the tiny trunk. It took a couple of tries, but we managed to get most of it in. Allyson and Savannah had to keep their bags under their feet, and the plastic bin of dry food took up the little space between them in the backseat, with the cake cooler perched precariously on top. (We soon learned that the cake cooler wasn't watertight. As I rounded a curve, the carrier tipped, and out poured a greasy yellow liquid, right onto Savannah's zebra blanket. Ugh!)  

By the time we picked up Ethan, who was about 40 minutes in the wrong direction, it was nearly 11, and Allyson and I were already getting hungry. And that's how we ending up stopping just past the edge of the Metroplex, under an hour after we'd started out from Byron's house. 

"This is the nice thing about not traveling with a man," I thought. "We don't have to worry about making time. We can stop whenever we want, and we don't have to leave at the crack of dawn." (Actually, when my dad was in charge we often left well before the crack of dawn.)

As I pulled off at a poor excuse for a rest stop, Ethan's indignant voice interrupted my reverie. "What?? We're stopping already? We're barely even out of town!" 

"I know, I know," I said. "But we're hungry." I pressed my lips together to hold in the laughter; I'd forgotten that Ethan is a man. 

"I'm staying in the car," he grumped. And that's exactly what he did. Unperturbed, Savannah, Allyson, and I sat at a cement picnic table and ate our tuna sandwiches and cheezies while Ethan pouted in the car. 

Funny, Ethan wasn't complaining when we stopped in West an hour or so later for world-famous kolaches at the Czech Stop. Not even when we had to wait in this line that stretched along two sides of the large convenience store: 

Sweet Savannah

 We all agreed it was worth the wait when we tasted these:

Well, all but Allyson, who thought her kolache tasted "weird." I was only too happy to take it off her hands. 

Near Austin, we stopped at Natural Bridge Caverns, where we all marveled over the stalactites and stalagmites, and over the unnerving sensation of total darkness. 

When we came back out, we found that the ice in the cake cooler had turned to hot water. My stomach lurched. What if the food had spoiled? After all that work? 

"It'll be fine," Ethan said.

And he was right. We ate all of it, and we lived to tell about it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

After we'd driven through tiny downtown Kyle and down a two lane road that tapered to gravel, and after Allyson had opened and re-latched two big gates, at last we came to our 1840s log cabin. All the females squealed with delight. (I'm not sure if Ethan made any sound because I was too caught up in the rapture.) See for yourself:

 After we'd exclaimed over the tiny living room, kitchenette, and master bedroom and bath, Allyson asked, "But where's the second bedroom?"

Oh boy. Maybe an oven wasn't the only thing missing in this quaint cabin! That church bench in the picture above was the only semblance of a couch.

"Oh, here it is!" Allyson said. Indeed, tucked in the corner was a wooden box of sorts, and inside that was a scary cross between a ladder and a stair case. Each step was a narrow slat of wood that creaked under our weight.

In this sharply peaked room, the original cabin owner had raised 17 children over the course of three marriages! 

Despite the inconvenience of the impossibly tiny fridge (concealed behind a curtain that kept getting shut in the door), the shallow sink, and the tiny microwave (behind the green shutters below), I had to admit I could see the appeal of this authentic 1840s kitchen.

I imagined myself cooking for 17 children in that fireplace (though I'm sure they didn't all live here at the same time). Her kids must have been way, way more helpful, I concluded.

Allyson was pretty helpful!

Allyson insisted on the bonnet and apron,
though I'm pretty sure they were just for looks. 

One of my favorite moments came while I rocked in the cane-bottomed chair, wondering if that other mother ever felt as hopelessly worn out as I do most days. Just then, Allyson coiled herself on my lap, knees touching her chin, arms wrapped around me, with her cheek pressed against my heart. Did that mother ever experience such sharp sweetness when a little one crawled in her lap? A lump gathered in my throat as I recognized this as one of those moments that I always pray to enjoy, one at a time [in the Serenity Prayer, which I recite each Tuesday while we all hold hands in a giant, misshapen circle].

Allyson and Savannah's favorite moments were probably feeding the funny donkeys that followed us everywhere. Savannah even forgave this cheeky one for accidentally biting her hand while she fed it grain that the cabin owners had left for us. 

We convinced ourselves that the one below was pregnant, though I bet she was just fat. We all pressed a hand to her side each day, feeling for donkey kicks, but we never felt anything. We did get to watch another mama nurse her adolescent baby, which was funny because when she wasn't in the mood for nursing, she nipped her big baby's bottom. Even funnier was the time when the cheeky donkey squeezed through the chained gate and into our cabin yard, and then all the others followed. 

Aside from an amazing day at the giant Schlitterbahn waterpark, which even I enjoyed immensely, the rest of the vacation did not go as planned. Turns out that the Hill Country region of Texas is way larger than I'd imagined. Many of the attractions clustered so closely around the town of Kyle were actually two to three hours away! 

It didn't really matter. It wasn't really the "memorable" touristy things that I will cherish. No, it was the odd, unpredictable moments: 

• Dozing on two grassy beach towels in the shade of towering cypress trees at Blue Hole while the kids jumped in and out of the bone-chilling, spring-fed water. Only half hearing their muted shrieks, I savored the gentle sun as I remembered the jolt of that water after they convinced me to jump off the dock, and after I made myself jump off the rope swing just to prove that I could. 

• Walking along the dry river bed and attempting to skip rocks in the brackish water that remained in one small hollow. And then laughing nervously over all three kids' fear when they ran from a boar that was rooting in the brush. (They all abandoned me, for the record.) 

• Forcing the kids to help me wash dishes in that tiny sink. We made a great, if reluctant, team. 

• Playing Dutch Blitz at the antique table by pale lamplight. Allyson wanted to quit after Savannah and I won the first two games, but after she won the third, she wanted to play again to break the tie. I said no; now we were all winners. (Ethan was up in the loft. He's too cool for games.) 

• Reading the Bible aloud in the loft while simultaneously scratching both Ethan's and Savannah's backs, with a bit of help from Allyson. 

• Window shopping in the picturesque town of Wimberley. I couldn't believe that even Ethan enjoyed that. I was even more surprised when he and Allyson enthusiastically dug through the clothing racks at a thrift shop and walked away with some crazy-cheap treasures. I'm glad they aren't too proud for thrift shop clothes. 

• Sitting alone on the front porch in the mornings, with lowing cattle and joyous birds for company, surrounded by more trees than my eyes could drink in. God met with me there in the stillness, and He quieted me. The only fly in the ointment was being deviled by all the bugs in the great outdoors. On the last morning, I almost fell out of my chair at the approach of a whirring insect nearly the size of my fist... that turned out to be an exquisitely delicate hummingbird! As I watched breathlessly, it drank nectar from a bush just off the porch and then hovered over a bloom in the hanging basket above my little table. I don't think I'd ever seen a hummingbird in person, outside a zoo, and I was enthralled, warmed by this kindness from my Father. Again, I wanted to store up this one beautiful moment. 

• Ethan's amazing helpfulness as we packed up on the last morning. He kept us on schedule for our 11:00 checkout and effortlessly loaded the trunk, with room to spare. 

The best moment of all may have been a quick prayer that last morning with my sobbing daughter. Everyone else had gotten to choose a day's activity, but we couldn't do what she wanted to do because there just wasn't time to drive to the lake, and the rest of us didn't want to drive all the way home in soggy bathing suits. I held Allyson close on that church bench couch and prayed that God would lead us to an activity we could all enjoy, and that He would help us to appreciate this last day together. I asked that He would help Allyson let go of her disappointment so she could enjoy His plans for us. 

In the car, I told her to choose between McKinney Falls (her original choice) and the Austin Nature Preserve, which was Ethan's suggestion. She pondered the choice soberly and then graciously agreed to the preserve. I was so proud of her.

I can't imagine anything we would have enjoyed more. There was a tiny, fun museum with hands-on science experiments and fossils we could touch. There were displays of rescued animals including an adorable raccoon and several birds of prey. There were rugged nature trails with amazing views. And it was all free! 

Here we are atop a brick ledge overlooking downtown Austin, far below. 

Do you see that? Even Ethan is smiling! And sweet, gracious Allyson is having the most fun of all. 

As hard as it was to let go of our too-short vacation, it was a gentle joy to return to my beloved home and wonderful neighborhood. I am blessed beyond anything I could have imagined. 

Why Am I Here?

My Bible study homework this morning was to spend an hour with God praying about my purpose, and to write down what He revealed to me. As I sat down on my back porch, I thought of Ephesians 2:10: "For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

Clearly, I was created with a specific purpose. So, I asked, "Why am I here?"

I'd been dreading this exercise, worried that God might not tell me anything. But what I discovered was that He didn't have to tell me anything because I already knew. My pen flew across the page as the passions He has put in me over the last 12 years poured out of their own accord:

• I am here to love others as Jesus has loved me, to let His deep love cover over a multitude of sins in myself and others. 
• I am here to serve God by using my gifts of writing and teaching, to help others discover and experience the love of Christ. I want to continue to share my testimony boldly, to tell the truth about God's grace in my life. 
• I am here to live life to the fullest, to enjoy one moment at a time, to live with eyes wide open so that I don't miss the blessings and treasures God has planned for me. I don't want to miss a single opportunity to love and serve another. 
• I am here to bring glory to God in all I do and all I say. I am a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor. (Isaiah 61:3)

And most importantly:

• I am here to love God with all of my heart, soul, and strength, to enjoy sweet fellowship with my Beloved. 

I want to live today, and each of the rest of my days, in sharp focus. I need to look at my way too busy life and prioritize my activities. I don't want to waste my time doing things that don't move me toward God's purpose for me. I certainly don't want to waste a minute feeling sorry for myself or wishing that my circumstances were different. I want to really live, and to me, that means loving with all of my heart. May it be so.

Now I ask you to pray and ponder: WHY ARE YOU HERE? Can you tell me? 

Thankfulness - Especially in the Darkness

I ran across an old journal tonight when I was looking for something else. I sat down in a plastic storage tub, on top of an ancient comforter that now serves as a drop cloth. Immediately I was transported back in time. First, I relieved my friendship with sweet Laura, and how God allowed me to love and serve her and her family in her last days and beyond. That experience forever changed me and opened my heart to love others. How God has enriched my life by bringing me so many dear friends after I took a chance and let myself love Laura!

In one of those entries, I wrote about Laura's cousin, who had told me how God worked during her separation from her husband, and how both of them were drawn closer to God through it. I saw the glory of God shining in her eyes as she recounted that story, and I wanted that kind of joy and peace for myself. But I shuddered at the price of it.

I wrote this prayer on July 11, 2011 (11 months before my marriage fell apart, almost to the day):

Lord, have mercy.... What might that mercy look like? Am I strong enough to survive it? Please prepare me for whatever the future will bring. Let me be so rooted and grounded in your love that I'm not shaken by the hard times, but instead send my roots down deeper.

Tonight, tears of joy and wonder streamed down as I realized how faithful God has been to answer that prayer. When I wrote it out (with trembling fingers), I had no idea what was coming. But God did, and He already knew how He would use it all for my good.

Fast forward one year and four months, to November 2, 2012. This was about three weeks before Bill and I separated, when I was in the deepest despair I'd ever known. In that entry, I wrote a list of everything I was thankful for. I didn't say why I was writing it, but probably it was to help me focus on what is pure and lovely and excellent and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8).

I'm thankful for my health. For sleep. I'm thankful for morning walks with God. For sunsets and sunrises, and eyes to appreciate them. I'm thankful for trees, flowers, birds. I'm thankful for chocolate peanut butter banana smoothies, for homemade bread from freshly ground wheat. I'm thankful for food on the table and for my family together at dinner each night.

I'm thankful for Allyson's laughter, her hugs, and her kisses. I'm thankful for Ethan's musical talent, his intelligence, his love of learning. For our home, our yard, our dog, our pool. For heat and air conditioning and clean water. 

I'm thankful for a peaceful home because Bill and I try to treat each other with respect..... 

I'm thankful for God's love that never fails me, even when I fail Him. I'm thankful for peace that surpasses my understanding, not a peace that the world gives. 

I'm thankful for second chances and hundredth chances. I'm thankful for mercy and compassion. And music. I love to sing praises to my God. 

I love morning snuggles and bedtime songs with Allyson, back scratches for Ethan, reading Scripture to my children.

I'm thankful for Bible study, for the ladies who love me and encourage me and pray for me. I'm thankful for the truth of God's word and for a heart that longs for God. I'm thankful for the storm I'm in! Because God is using it for my good. I'm 42 years old and I'm changing and growing and learning. 

I'm thankful that I don't need to worry because God is in control. He loves me, and his plan for me is good. He ordained all of my days before one of them came to be. He guides me with his light. He knows where we're going because darkness is as light to Him [Psalm 139].

I'm thankful that I am never Forsaken, always Beloved. That I can nestle under His wings and be carried against my Shepherd's heart. I'm thankful that He sees me, knows me, takes delight in me. He rejoices over me with singing! He quiets me with His love [Zephaniah 3:17]. He redeems my life from the pit. He crowns me with love and compassion. He satisfies my desires with good things. [Psalm 103].

He heals me with His Word. He never leaves me or forsakes me. My heart is steadfast when I trust in Him.This is His book, and He is the author of my salvation. It's going to be a good story, one that brings Jesus glory. 

I am thankful to be alive, thankful for a grateful heart. May I ever be so, Lord. 

Amen! May I never forget my Father's faithfulness. His mercy is beyond my comprehension.