There are a lot of compassionate and caring messages floating around, in the news, in blogs, between friends, as we witness this sorrowful event. I've read the news, the profiles of each victim, and I've spent the weekend trying to balance confusion, grief, and frustration with joy, hope, and love.
The children are home.
Alex passed his driving test!
Holly celebrated a happy birthday!
Tasha's leg is healed... enough to escape to the front yard, sneak into the garage and dance like a deer in the office.
Geoff and Maria shopped for Christmas gifts together.
Max is a masterful gift wrapper.
We had three kinds of Cornish Pasty for dinner.
William's laughter rings out through the house and makes me smile, every time.
The kitties are snuggly and loving.
Our furnace works... first time we even turn it on in four years!
And the oven... you'll be shocked, too! Our oven has heated up every time this week.
The house is a mess. A sweet, familiar, blessed mess, because we live here, and everyone one is home, and we've been making things, baking, cooking, playing, creating, solving problems, tinkering.
and I am thankful to hear Maria, writing a message to hang on her door, ask "How do you spell wrapping?"
I am thankful to Geoff, for filling my car with gas, and filling our pines with lights, filling my head with ideas and notions, and filling my heart with passion.
I am thankful for raisins, which taste delicious.
And also almonds, which are also delicious.
I am thankful for wool batting, bloomers, and Maria's bouncing announcement of "Good news! Good news! Eight more days! Til Christmas! Eight!"