Sunday, March 2, 2008

Dear God,

Can you wrap Your arms around my dad and protect him throught the night? Could you ask two of Your angels to sit on that gurney with him? Would You be able to open up a room for him so that he doesn't have to lie in that hallway between those violent, abusive, heroin addicts? God? That episode with the switchblade knife and all the yelling was so unsettling to watch. Please? Could you remove him from that environment? Please keep my dad's body and mind safe through this night.

And God?
Thank you for today.
The sunshine was nice.
Thanks that the kids got back from Big White safe and happy.

But God?
I'm scared.
Are we heading BACK to where we came from in November?
Was I supposed to learn a lesson back then and didn't? So now You're giving me a second chance to get it right?
Please? Could I get an extra measure of peace tonight?


Thank you God for these three sons. Please give me the wisdom to know how to raise them to be men after Your heart.
Enable Drew to see that I am not his enemy.
Speak to Max - guide him as he makes decisions regarding his future.
Continue to give Clint opportunities to use His gifts for Your glory.
And help them all not be morons in their relationships with each other and with their friends. Let them choose Godly wives.


But mostly God? Please be with my dad.

Amen.
.
.
.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1.Daryl. He's dealing with my laptop tonight... it is virus-ridden and incapacitated. Of course it is. I'm in an Euyore phase these days. 24 red lights in a row on my way to the hospital this afternoon.
2. I found my camera manual. It was in a basket beside the chair in my bedroom. My "reading" chair. The place that I had set aside in this house to read in. How many times have I read there in the past 4 months? ZERO. What happens in that spot instead? It gets pile high with clothes.
3. This is kinda embarassing. But I'm thankful for it anyway, so I might as well mention it. I'm thankful for the dream I had last night.
James Defranco kissed me.
And it felt nice and made me smile.
I know it was me that was kissed, because it was my dream, but the me in the dream couldn't have been the real me. Or maybe it was the me who was 16 and not 46.
See, the thing was, we were floating in tubes at a water park on one of those fake river things. (Right away, we have to wonder who was playing the part of me, because, honestly? I can't see myself in a bathing suit, floating in water, sharing a tube with a guy.)
"I think I want to kiss you," he says to me, causing the 46 year old me to have a hot flash.
"Sorry. First date. No way...." I reply.
We continue floating around the river, and he mentions that each time we do a complete circle, that we're on our second, third, fourth dates...
.
Meanwhile, in real life, 46 year old me is shivering cold in bed. In my 'time to clean this house' mood earlier in the day, I put my down-filled comforter into my truck, planning on taking it to the drycleaners on Monday. So I was sleeping under just a sheet. But I had pajamas on, so I thought I'd be warm. I wasn't. My whole body was tense, and that knot in my hip was pulsing and I'm dreaming about floating with James. Why James? I don't know. He's never been on any of my hit lists, so he came out of nowhere. No Where I tell you.
.
And then, when we're on our fifth drift around the park, he stops counting "dates" and starts talking. Saying words with meaning. And depth. And intelligence. And warmth. And compassion. And I get all caught up in the words.
The words.
And I say, "Uh, wow, I really want you to ki..."
and he leans in and kisses me. Well. He kisses me well.
The 46 year old me stops being freezing cold in her Sponge Bob pajamas and bed sheet. The 46 year old me's hip knot unwinds. The 46 year old me and the dreamy me both say at the same time, "hmmmmm. You've done that before." But it's over. The dream is over.
.
I frantically try to go back to sleep to keep things going for awhile. You know, to see how this whole thing will play out.
.
But I'm awake.
And my hip is no longer throbbing.
So that's a good thing.
You can't ask for much more than that from a dream.
.
.
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Shalom,


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