A Beautiful Day

At 7:00 I sluggishly walk down and begin the crockpot, turning on the grits, prepped the night before.

And then go back to bed.

Up 'til 2 AM the night before, prepping for a camping.  Then, up again at 3 AM, sick.

Awake again by eight-thirty, still not feeling the best, I head to the kitchen to make coffee.  My nephews, I. and S. are busy with leggos as I shuffle around, finishing details.   Drink coffee, but that's about it.  Feed boys.  Finish cooking for camping.  Get a shower, wiping the dirt of the morning away.    I attempt to start packing my clothes. The rain falls in sheets:  not good weather for camping.

We take care of a couple of things around the house.

And then, we find out the camper's fridge is broken.  The boys are heart-broken. Why can't we just use coolers?  I. asks.  And I understand: these boys have rolled with the punches much better than I would have as a child.

But there's grace in the afternoon sunlight.  Slowly, I begin to feel more like myself.  I gradually start eating again.  And the morning's rain now comes and goes gently, caressing our faces as we wait out this delay.  Music softly plays in the background as I finish my packing.  We leave early the next morning.

Sometimes, there's grace in waiting.