Ryan took this morning off to take his mom to an angiogram appointment. He was excited because he has an affinity for hospital food. [This I did know before we got married]. We were sitting around last night discussing the details of my baby sister's baby she had after a quick 2 1/2 hour labor[!], all natural. We were talking about his weight and length and dark hair that would be so foreign to us, wondering what they named the sweet thing [Clark Vaughn Jones] when Divine returned from ice skating. Her first time, and she had been talking about it for weeks, maybe months. I almost didn't let her go, but I knew she might hold that grudge for weeks, maybe months. She returned in the middle of our celebratory conversation with a cup of hot chocolate and a sad face. She fell after 5 minutes of skating and was supporting her wrist. I convinced Ryan to take her to the hospital in the morning, you know, since he would already be there.
So, turns out, I really don't have control at all. This arm. Broken. And with two abdominal ultrasounds for the UTI frequenters scheduled for Friday, it seems I am anything but in control. The frailties of life are just that: life. I may not finish my black and white Clad Christmas series, I may just end up getting gift cards for all those teachers who care for my baby dills many hours a week, and I will be spending more time at the hospital than packing and decking the halls than planned, but it all highlights and bolds the genuine reason for the singing, the gifts, the baking, the traveling, and the lights. I may not have my color coordinated photo op, but that certainly won't diminish the glory and hope that shines especially bright this time of year through the birth and life of our Save-ior. I am grateful for these reminders that the fragility of life and lack of control is balanced by the promise of one day being perfected through Him.
Divine says she's getting a green cast. Do you think she'll let me paint it black and white?