My thoughts are awhirl. You pray and pray and pray for something, and you wake up one morning . . . and voila . . . there it is.
It was just like that yesterday. I woke up, stumbled down the stairs with my hair awry, wearing the housecoat my youngest son says makes me look like somebody’s grandmother. When he said that to me a few years ago I politely reminded him that I am somebody’s grandmother.
But I digress. Yesterday I groped in the dark kitchen for the tea kettle. I don’t like a whole lot of light first thing in the morning. Takes me a few hours to adjust. And it took almost 30 years for my husband to grasp this fact. He’s the opposite sort, having a penchant for flicking ALL the lights on first thing while I try in vain to shield my eyes from what ever blinding source the light came from.
But thankfully yesterday morning he was still in bed catching a few more winks. A little earlier I’d heard our daughter in the bathroom, having her shower, and was then drying her hair, getting ready for work.
Normally in the mornings, any family members I meet—well, we just sort of pass each other with a friendly grunt, that is if we have to acknowledge each other at all.
But yesterday morning was different.
Lana bounded up the stairs as soon as she heard my footsteps in the kitchen.
“Mom, look at this.”
Or something to that affect. It’s all a bit of a blur 24 hours later.
She flung her hand out palm down, the fingers ever so elegantly splayed.
My eye caught a glint. I had yet to open the blinds, but I caught it. And—this mom is smart some of the time—I knew this flicker of radiance had to be what she’d been hoping for. That flash of light matched the glow in her eyes, and from that in her voice. My precious girl was brimming over with happiness. She'd waited, and she'd prayed, and by George if the Lord had not brought to her a worthy man to love. A very worthy young man.
I grabbed her hand. My goodness it was an engagement ring.
I flicked on the overhead lights so I could see. Yes it was . . . an engagement ring—and a beautifully tasteful one. The solitaire sparkled and shimmered and danced. I thought—oh my goodness, James has certainly outdone himself.
I gave Lana a mad dash of a hug, my words of happiness and congratulations tumbling from my lips so that a day later I really don’t remember what I said.
We ran up the stairs together, both still in our pyjamas, ripped open the door to my bedroom and flicked on the lamp by my husband’s side of the bed.
“You’ve got to see this,” I said to his disgruntled mutterings that he didn’t have to get up yet.
He leaned up in bed looked at Lana’s hand placed directly under the beam of light.
He smiled, “Oh, a finger, how nice.”
Psalm 37:3-5 "Trust in the Lord and do good . . . cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the disires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, Trust also in Him, and He will do it."