Wednesday, February 27, 2013

In The Hands of God

Wow this kid can play volleyball…and to think, she was the only one in her grade not make the team last year.

Middle girl is going to be a great athlete.

So this new dog of ours has wrapped the husband around its little paw-finger. The cat however, not so much…she’s terrified of Lil’ Lassie.

I bought new food and she runs towards the bowl and nose-dives into the little glass bowl, forcing the bowl and herself sliding across the concrete floor and bouncing off of the baseboard. So much fun to see, but not near as much fun as watching the husband frolic through the yard with the dog at his heels while he thinks no one is watching.

My niece Jordyn celebrated the big “3” Monday; actually, we celebrated on Saturday with a Pepa Pig party. This kid is adorable. Her favorite thing to do at every party she attends is stand by the cake and run her finger through the icing on the side to sneak a lick. She got up on the table Saturday and stood over her cake and ran her finger through the middle, as to say, “This is my party and I’ll take my lick out of the middle.”

Looking at her reminds me soo much of my middle child at that age. I miss my babies being little.

So, I am about to tell a story and at the outset I beg you to please understand this is not to embarrass my child but to give God the glory.

The eldest child and I were both sitting in our vehicles about to pull out of the subdivision when I pulled out and turned right – my lane was clear. Her lane however had a rollback truck barreling towards her as she pulled out at the same time I did, in front of this truck. She had done exactly what she’d been taught her entire life; follow her momma.

I had only enough time to screech out her name in a broken whisper.

When she saw the truck, she was already in his lane of traffic.

That huge rollback truck stopped on a dime…and so did the three cars behind him.

She made her way on safe and sound.

As I closed my eyes and thanked God, I looked down at my odometer and my mileage was 27,900. My gas miles-to-empty was 227…

If this means nothing to you, find my blog that is titled “Why He Gave Me a ‘27.'”

When I got to work I noticed a pile of yard-sale clothes I had stacked in my office over the weekend. The little jacket my son wore years ago was hanging out of the middle of the pile; on the side was embroidered “27.”

“I got this, kid…” –God

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