Thursday, January 20, 2011

Profound thought #2

After 9 inches of snow, a snow day, and Tony saying if you want to go, all of us will get in the car and go with you, I called and cancelled a doctor's appointment that I had been waiting 3 months for.  When the receptionist said I would have to wait another 8 weeks, I said "Don't cancel my appointment.  I'll call you back."  Tony relented and said I could go alone but with lots of warnings - be careful, be very careful, be extremely careful.  At 11:00, the roads were still pretty treacherous, but between 30 to 50 miles per hour, I had plenty of time to think and listen to my Inspirational playlist on my Ipod (Yes, Tony, I turned it on before I pulled out of the garage.)  I was amazed as I traveled that the roads could be a hard packed grayish white and then be a smooth black a minute later.  After cruising a stretch of smooth black, I was facing two hills on Highway 40. I could see from the top that way down was clear and easy but the valley was full of muck but the way back up was clear.  Please let me get through the valley was my quick prayer.  Then a profound thought hit me.  Isn't life just like that?  You're doing just fine, your loved ones are doing just fine, and then all of a sudden you're in a pile of muck. You can spend a lot of time in the valley and the only way out is uphill.  Thankfully, we never leave the valley alone.  God uses our family, our friends, and even strangers to push us out of the valley and back up the hill. 

Monday, January 3, 2011

My profound thought for the new year...maybe my only one for the whole year

As you may know, we have been wrestling with Macy sleeping in her crib.  She goes down usually without a fuss, but a few hours later she is screaming at the top of the her lungs.  We've tried a variety of tricks.  Macy's personal favorite is when we surrender & let her sleep with us.  Since she is in the 95 percentile for her height and has mastered a 360 degree spin in bed, Tony & I wake up tired and a tad cranky.  One of our numerous resolutions was to get Macy to sleep through the night in her crib. 
Tonight as I put her down, I offered to do "100 minutes" like we do with Parker (that is a whole other story).  Laying on her pillow pet, snuggled in her crotchet blanket, I held her hand through the crib bars.  As I listened to her breathe,  I had my profound thought.  None of us want to face the darkness alone.  We want to be swaddled in the security of our loved ones.  We may not know what the darkness holds, but we trust that the ones who love us will be there until the morning light.