...the husband for whom I prayed said to wake up the boy who came through the door sick and sad and went straight to bed. So I called: "Cade! Wake up! Jim is going to take you on an adventure!"
The boy with rat's-nest hair and red eyes got out of bed and put on his glasses, shoes, coat. He jammed his hands down in his coat pockets and asked, low and sincere: "Mom, is Jim taking me to the doctor?"
I laughed and said: "No."
Cade said: "I'm glad, because that wouldn't be a very good adventure."
On the way out the door, I heard them talking about where they will go to buy snacks to eat while we watch a rented movie, and I know there will be an ice-cream-cake surprise for an overdue birthday celebration for the coughing Scout with the postponed sleepover and disqualified pinewood-derby car.
The Wild Orange is pretending to talk to my sister-cousin on the phone for the hundredth time, today, and I am glad they know and love one another. Occasionally, the Orange breaks out in song, and I am glad "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is her favorite, that she is learning more of the words, and that--at twenty-three months--she already sings in key. I am glad for Baby Charleigh sleeping in my arms, and I am glad for the husband and son who are trying to make a relationship-something from next to nothing. I am glad for the friends who will have lunch with us on Monday and for the electric and propane heaters we can use until our broken, forced-air unit is replaced. I am glad the broken unit (with its sudden, gaping hole) did not catch on fire, force an abundance of soot into our house, or poison us with carbon monoxide. I am glad for Handy Andy, who can't always fix our problems but always answers his phone or calls us right back. I am glad Clementine's lumps are swollen lymph nodes and nothing more, also that they are shrinking thanks to antibiotics and are much smaller, now, than peas. But, more than any of it, I am glad for the Heavenly Father who sees broken mommy hearts and works patiently, quietly, lovingly, to make things ok.
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