The fire in the fireplace has gone out, but the coals are still glowing. Outside the snow that has been swirling around in gusts of wind has settled into a light flurry of flakes. Inside we are safe and warm and settled in for the night. Two hours ago I was trying to talk on the phone, while juggling Gabe and ushering two older boys into the bathroom to brush their teeth. Josh was trying to take a nap before work, but I am not sure how much sleep he got. Hopefully mother nature will keep the streets of Evansville quiet tonight. After Josh left I looked out the front window, to see how much snow had settled in our yard. It seems like even at the first forecast of snow, the child inside can't help but get excited, wondering just how much will fall. As an adult, it is easier to enjoy it, knowing you don't have to be anywhere. My daffodil shoots are buried, but they have been covered by a late winter snowfall before, and still survived to bloom when the sunshine returns. It's funny how the life we observe in nature mirrors our own lives at times. March 9 will mark the one year anniversary from the date we received Gabe's diagnosis. It was a Friday, so today felt like the anniversary. The MRI in Indianapolis was March 5th. I got the call on Thursday afternoon to come into the office to go over the results with our specialist here in Evansville. I tried to tell myself that just because we didn't get the results over the phone the news wasn't necessarily bad. It felt like denial. We left that appointment with a diagnosis, a photocopied page about diaphragmatic hernia, an appointment to return to Indianapolis and questions we didn't even know to ask. We were buried. Even then we sensed that for most of the questions we had and would have, there would be no answers, only guesses. We had three months, we hoped, to keep appointments, make plans, do all we could to protect this new life we had been entrusted with. I think we were as prepared as we possibly could be to hear the news that day. We had been in limbo and at least now we had some answers, we had a direction and a path to follow, even if we had know idea where it would lead us. It wasn't the last time we would be feel overwhelmed, or the last time we would find new direction in the midst of confusion and fear. There was always hope, and we took every encouraging word or sign we could and held onto it. So many of you out there who may be reading this now gave us some of that hope and strength. Every prayer, every candle lit, every card, phone call or hug came just at the right time, when we needed it. Our Why Catholic meeting this week focused on the trinity and the mystery of the holy spirit. I believe the holy spirit worked in so many of you to come to us. Our sunshine to melt the snow, to melt the fear and uncertainty away and just like the earth in spring, we were renewed.


Excerpt from "GRACE", as recorded by Michael W. Smith
And all these years you've carried me
You've been my eyes when I could not see
And beauty grows in the driving rain
Your oil of gladness in the times of pain