I woke to find that my bed was shared with two littles who had each in the night sought comfort and warmth when woken by the strong winds and rain, and able to read the clock I knew that we still had power. Making my way down through the early morning light found my backyard littered with trees unable to stay standing against the forces of the storm but none of their falling branches breached the house.
And so began the morning after, checking on friends and family, praying for those still in the storms path, and making breakfast for my fellow little storm survivors who are definitely are exhibiting the signs of cabin fever but are otherwise fine. And setting down our little piece of the story of this storm,
- of embracing the power of yes and assenting to a request for spaghetti for breakfast
- of making muffins in the hope that they would finish cooking before any power failure
- of letting the TV/screen time rule slide for the day
- of messages and tweets of concern and supports sent out and received
- of missing Dr Daddy as he stood his post
- of rediscovering once again the loving promise of Psalm 30:5
| For his anger is but for a moment; His favor is for a life-time: Weeping may tarry for the night, But joy cometh in the morning. |
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And so I write it down as requested by the gypsy mom
Aw - the days of climbing into bed with my mother - good times, except for the fact that I also always ended up next to my sister who kicked her way through the night. Also, my mother lost power right after she put her first batch of cookies in the oven.
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