What's stuck

Whispers of snow are actually falling on my rooftop today, and it is just blissful inside. I don't want to jump ahead and say, "idyllic," but I might. I could just gobble up my little Christmas girl, even though she pressed play dough on the front door's glass in her frustration that daddy had left once again for church. I let it go because it is tough to celebrate a special time sans daddy--for any child, really. To her joy, though, he did return a mere hour and a half later to escort her out into the snow. We sat in the garage with the door up, she buried into my coat....and we all watched it. The snow, falling on ground that seemed to zap it away. No "sticking," as we Texans say. The snow didn't stick today, but there are things that do.



Five years ago today we were in the middle of a terrible ice storm, driving 30 miles per hour from Kentucky to Texas. Car after car passed us in confidant speeds we wouldn't dare. Five minutes later, we saw them again, only this time they were buried in snow on the side of the road. I cried twice on that trip. The first was in fear when I watched my husband slip out on the slippery road next to a mountain to scrape off the ice that had blasted us blind upon entering the interstate. The second was in frustration after traveling for the entire morning to not even make it out of the state.



We stopped at a Walmart to buy De-Icer, and as B sprayed and scrubbed outside, I sniffed and whimpered inside. What were we doing? We had so far to go. When we finally made it home, the Tahoe looked like it had been through another world. We were tired and in need of a good shower after wearing the same clothes for two days. Fortunately, we were still in tact and bearing gifts--and even cranberry bread!--which I could not help thinking might have been our meals had we gotten stranded like so many other cars.

A year ago today, we were trekking back to Texas again, only this time, it was from Alabama. We followed the stream of gift-packed cars with our own, only ours was full of everything we owned. B drove a moving truck, my amazing mother-in-law drove a car, and I was packed in another with Ava and all her essentials. I didn't cry then, but perhaps because I did not have anything left after saying goodbye to our first home the night before. I did not expect it to hurt so bad, leaving the home I loved and where I brought my child home for the first time. I was so fearful of the unknown in front of us in Fort Worth, and I knew it was because the unknown had been scary before. This was the moment where my faith stretched until it was no longer recognizable....so much so I started to forget why we had entered into this ridiculous career patch. However, In God's grace and mercy, He made this unknown even better than I could have imagined.

And so, we praise God today for the adventures behind us. Each year passes in our marriage and we shake our heads in wonder of how we made it through it all in one piece. My first line of love to B on an anniversary card last month was, "This one was a dozy, wasn't it?" The stillness of the snow and little challenges today remind me that there have been scarier things behind us in years past, and we made it through. I think of Mary and Joseph, perhaps looking back on their Eve of Christ's birth together and remembering that they made it through to the next day. All the other Christmas Eves could now be peaceful and still. The world rests and waits to remember again of the mercy that came that idyllic, imperfect Christmas day. He saw us through, fulfilled it all, and gave us more Christ(mases) thereafter than we could ever deserve.