Waiting Thankful

Rose loves an outing.
A trip with Ma Glo inevitably means candy or a coloring book. Or both.
So she skips in to ask if she can go to the store with her Grandma and I nod a slow yes, prolonging her anticipation.
Ma Glo tells Rose that she'll just run down to her house to get her car and then she'll drive up to get her.
Rose gets her shoes on and slips out to wait on the porch.
I get lost on the Internet, reading someone's story somewhere about something. It obviously impacted me deeply. I was interrupted from that memorable something by a tragic faced child.
Her three words gnashed.
"She forgot me."
And then silence while I gasped for air and her eyes pooled.
"She never came for me. It's been so long. She forgot me."
Instinctively I knew that this was more than coloring books and candy, this was the longing of humanity, to be remembered. To be worth remembering.
And I spoke the words I needed to hear, "Rosy, Ma Glo loves you. She would never forget you."
"Then where is she!"
On cue came the sound of an opening door, "Rosy! Are you ready?"
Rose ran.


This Thanksgiving I am thankful for a God who doesn't forget us.
I am thankful that when I doubt this I can resource His Word that tells me, "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;"  (Isaiah 49:15,16)
I am thankful that He promises, "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."
I am thankful that I was reminded by a little girl, that when my eyes start to pool and doubt gnashes deep, a Hand is already on the door knob waiting to open it.
And when He opens that door,
I will run,
because I have been waiting a long time.

Our Vast World

The fire blazes every night.
In front of the fire sits a grey dog, and bookish children with their bookish mother. Their active father is working hard and is often absent into the night.
The house smells like ham stew and pears in the food dehydrator. Wood fire. And dog.
A cat perches on the back of a chair.
And this world that overwhelms me with its vastness, is condensed. Corseted into an eight by eight section of rug.
I read out loud.
The Long Winter.
All of a Kind Family.
Charlotte's Web.
Escape From Mr. Lemoncello's Library.

Daddy surprises everyone by getting home early and his round of books begin.
The Hardy Boys.
Pollyanna.
The Warden and the Wolf King.

I could never count how many books I've read over the years to these kids or how many times I've gone hoarse.
It's beyond calculation.

This is our winter world.
Curled in front of a fire, lost in the vast world of story with several animals joining our travels.
All this glory on an eight by eight section of rug.
And outside, another world waiting.........