rainy snow days and gratitude

It started this morning; almost forty degrees outside and still the white flakes swirled about, an answer to an irrationally selfish prayer: "Just one more glimpse, please God..."

Then at Gram's doctor's appointment, a sliver of a gift, pie-size hope for an appointment of my own before going back to Peru... and budgetable as well.

On those heels followed the news that my afternoon AND evening plans were cancelled...

and a snow day was born at noon.

...with the same eager, 

wide-eyed, 

can't-go-back-to-sleep 

anticipation 

that I felt as a teacher with no pre-plans, just the ones spontaneous, and wonderfully made...

And why should it surprise me that it's less than two weeks before take-off 

and there's still God-room for spontaneity?

And I got to grab coffee with S... while blowing silly kisses to K, who beautifies even the DunkinDs uniform, 

and I am grateful for her heart of gold to lend me the book 

she had just bought the day before.

And got to drive to Orland and snatch my favorite Grecian goddess from her turret and just wander with the two sisters in Bangor stores, semi-aimlessly among aisles and alleys, laughing over corny product names and smearing our upper lips with love...

that I can still smell when I walk outside...

And out came stories of the past and the present, slipping through the cracks of words spoken in sister-code and translated by eyes and faces 

and my shameless questions.

And we stopped by Edge and H stumbled on "Pursuit of Happyness," 

a perfect way to end the evening,

 - after they ate (I am so happy when they eat) 

food that actually has vitamins and proteins in it, 

not just flour and sugar, 

and we laughed and ached and rejoiced with Chris Gardner and his son

until the movie was over.

and I have forever burned into my mind their two faces, side-by-side and blue-lit, smiling with genuine happiness, H peering over S's shoulder at the screen on her phone, hiding and seeking out their sister love again...

And the only part of the evening that was hard to thank the Father for was the drive home

      and the drop-off

             and the splinter of fear

                       that the next time I see them

their lives might be upside-down again.

but I am now listening... and entrusting...

and I thank God for wise women,

and for Himself, the Forger of paths and the mover of mountains

      who sees the end of all things, yet is patient with my blindness and irrational insecurities...

And I am going to bed full,

and with peace,

and so very

grateful.