I’m not usually an antique hunter, but I was “all over” this refurnished dining set that I’d found on Kijiji.
It had just enough “new” to facelift the “old”, and came with an affordable price tag to help us fill our One Day house and still leave room for groceries. So, after making an appointment ahead of time, my husband and I left our baby girl with her grandma and borrowed the truck and horse trailer to head north and come back with our first-ever dining table. Our plan was to return by mid-day to pick up our daughter and still have time to bake an apple pie for our family Thanksgiving dinner later that evening.
I’m not saying that God actually laughed at our plans… but He did have a few tweaks He wanted to make.
The truck sputtered and puttered until we got it safely on the side of a highway. And waited. And called. And waited. And called. And waited.
Did I mention that I had to use the bathroom? Over an hour from home? And this wasn’t exactly a quiet, bush-sided country road.
After some time and several chain phone calls, we eventually got a hold of my father-in-law, who would bring another truck so that we wouldn’t have to abandon our newly acquired purchase on the side of a busy highway.
Now all we had to do was wait some more.
“At least it isn’t snowing,” I told my husband. He smiled at me and held my hand, recognizing that I was desperately trying to fight the (unreasonable) separation anxiety from being away from our daughter.
“I’m thankful we didn’t take the busier highway back home,” he said. I nodded in agreement.
This wasn’t our first “thankful” chorus we’d made in the last year. Seven months earlier, in the worst of the colic, there was one evening that sticks to my memory above the rest in an endless season of crying and fears.
Baby Girl had been screaming for hours. Endless. Car rides, soother, swing… nothing worked. We were “tag teaming” her back and forth, bouncing and walking, “shhhh”ing in her ear, and holding her near the fan above the stove. She had hardly eaten all day and was refusing to nurse, and I was a wild, heart-broken mess.
At about 9:30 that night, she eventually calmed, and began to feed. It was the most beautiful relief I’ve ever felt in my life, and (of course) I began to cry. As she continued to nurse slowly for the 45 minutes, my husband and I went back and forth, taking turns sharing anything and everything that we were thankful for.
It was just too much. Too hard. Too dark. It was the only way to keep the light on after such a miserable day, and God warmed every corner of our hearts that night.
And now, on the side of the road, on a cold Thanksgiving weekend…
I’m thankful that the police closed the 3-lane highway so that we had to take a slower, less busy route.
I’m thankful that we stopped at a “perfect place” with a wide, flat ditch.
I’m thankful it wasn’t any colder outside.
I’m thankful that my daughter was in the care of someone I completely trusted.
I’m thankful that my anxiety is better today, than it was yesterday.
I’m thankful that we eventually got a hold of my father-in-law.
I’m thankful for the use of a Christian brother’s truck.
I’m thankful for the quick arrival of AMA.
I’m thankful for the Thanksgiving dinner I still got to enjoy that night.
I’m thankful that I wasn’t alone… in any sense of the word.
I’m thankful that He never stops teaching us and He never gives up on us, no matter how often we just want to turn everything “off” and go on a spiritual summer vacation. Or even a long weekend.
God doesn’t take holidays.
And thankfully, neither do the tow trucks.