i sat there, allowing him to take me away on that big ol' jet plane, down country roads that would lead home...home to his annie; the annie who filled up his senses, but not enough to keep him there.
and sadness finds me.
but not really.
maybe the tears that his songs bring on have finally found a reason to release.
i placed my fingers on black and white keys the other morning, chaos had become triumphant and my mind sought the peace that advent music would bring.
my fingers slowly turned the pages to #83, the plea for Emmanuel to come. my eyes, though, rested on #82, God be with you...
her voice, with the scottish lilt began to fill my memories...
boarding the train...
her father, my great-grandfather, standing off in the distance, not coming near to see his daughter off...
friends surrounding the platform, her window and joining voices together to sing her towards a new homeland...a new life...away from them.
but singing to the One Who would watch over them all...
until they met again.
and my fingers played over and over again, my voice becoming raw as i sang through the tears.
such loss this year.
such sadness.
but still, He asks me to come in thanksgiving. to not just see, but acknowledge His faithfulness, His goodness to me.
to say in agreement with him when i long for the assurance that life with the Almighty is safe,
"safe"? said mr. beaver, "don't you hear what mrs. beaver tells you? who said anything about safe? 'course He isn't safe. but He's good. He's the King, i tell you."
no, the circumstances and the twists and turns that He allows may say otherwise, but regardless, He is good...
so i continue to count...
#40 folded blankets by hands not quite 5.
#41 coffee with a dearest friend.
#42 little man running around in stripes that don't match.
#43 the weight of my three in my arms, pressed close against my heart.
#44 that they don't realize that they are almost too big for my lap.
#45 they way he points to his nose and proudly proclaims, "ding dong!".
#46 for pain in friendship, because hidden in the hurt is the gem of love given well.
#47 for the unexpected knock and the gift of an angel.
#48 for moments of quiet, no matter how fleeting and small.
#49 for the reaching in the night of little arms, for the call to comfort.
