Friday, November 24, 2006

Dearest God,

It was finally Thanksgiving Day! I had looked so forward to this time together with my family. Each phone call I had made during the prior week, I asked one of my grandchildren, “How many more days ‘til we’re all together?” “Five, four, three, two, one!” Each would squeal as they thought about spending time with cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I was as excited as they were!

On Wednesday night Sophie, my five-year-old granddaughter and I slept in sleeping bags on her bedroom floor. She could hardly sleep. She couldn’t wait for her cousin Gabrielle to arrive. She kept talking about it. I repeatedly said, “You’ve got to go to sleep. They’ll be here when you awaken in the morning.” (They were leaving Indiana at 3:30 a.m.)

It was 6:30 a.m. when I called the traveling family. “Fog, Mom, there is so much fog. Visibility is about 1/8 of a mile!” My frustrated daughter told me. “Just drive carefully. I’ll pray for you!” I promised.

When I told Sophie they were driving in fog, she only repeated, “When’s Gabrielle going to get here?” “Soon,” I promised, soon.” Her little eyes were lit up like a lighted tree on Christmas morning.

In a couple of hours my daughter and her family arrived. The girls threw their arms around one another. The noise level in the house grew by decibels. Gabrielle, 6, Sophie, 5, and I, 60, played the Disney Memory Game. It was very clear who possessed the greatest memory. Sophie won with 17 pairs; Gabrielle was a close second at 14. I had successfully paired five cards. I was grateful.

Just as soon as we picked up the card game, Sophie grew pale. “My tummy hurts.” She shared. “Why don’t we all lay down and read books. Maybe you’ll feel better.” I reassured her. But it didn’t happen. Sophie began throwing up. I ran for towels, barking orders to Gabrielle to leave the room. When she was finished, she was peaked. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Grandma, I want to play with Gabrielle.” Sophie cried out. “Oh, Honey, you’re sick and when you feel better, you’ll be able to be together.” I said. “But I want to play with her.” She spoke, unconvinced. She was so sad.

With Gabrielle downstairs and Sophie up, two little girls were very unhappy. I tried to calm Sophie and reassure her that she would be better soon. She didn’t buy it. She just cried while I held her close.

Finally, I rigged up a solution to the dilemma. I had Sophie in her sleeping bag with me in my bag next to her in case she got sick again. Then I placed a sleeping bag in the hallway next to Sophie’s bedroom door. Gabrielle crawled into her sleeping bag, then I put in the video, “Ice Age – The Meltdown,” I had purchased for the occasion.

Again Sophie vomited. I was better prepared this time. (I was grateful for the plastic Easter basket bucket) Now, both girls were crying. They so much wanted to be together in the same room. I was trying to comfort both of them. But I wasn’t very successful. Finally, with parents’ permission we allowed them back together. We figured if they both were sick, they could be miserable together in the same room. Before long, they were laughing and playing again.

Later Lucy, the 14 month old became ill as well. But by day’s end everyone seemed fine. We had had a wonderful day, laughing and playing, teasing one another, eating well, and giving thanks for one another.

Some days
don’t turn out exactly
as we planned.
Perfect days don’t happen.
They’re not supposed to.
Greater days
are those where
you roll with the punches,
go with the flow,
trust and make do.
God is in the midst,
in the middle of it all.
Turkey and vomit
don’t necessarily go together,
but, it’s really okay
when God’s in it.
Love gets expressed
in many ways,
more than you might have planned,
God in the middle.

Love always, Andrea