Moments in Grace

I have a confession to make.  I have been harboring a tantalizing secret fantasy. A fantasy that has been worming its way into my thoughts and quiet moments, and my heart has been setting itself on it, happy. This fantasy involves a quiet country lane leading to a quiet country house, with quiet acres where, in my fantasy, my children can run free and I can sit enjoying the quiet and of course, peace. This is my fantasy. Because this year has been just plain hard.  Chaos overwhelming.  The longest, coldest, winter we've had in forever, with long days of six kids and usually several more neighborhood kids stuck in our smallish house. I dream of a place where the doorbell does not ring fifteen times per afternoon and when pull into the driveway there are not already herds of cheering boys greeting the sight of the big red van.  A place where there is room for little kids to run in safety away from the busy street and the bands of marauding teenagers that spend their days

The sun came out today.  This is nothing short of a miracle because I think I had started to believe that it would never show its glowing orb again. I mean, we all know that winter always becomes spring, but why is it that in the throws of icy deadness it can be believed that this is all that there is? That is will always be that way. That this is a good as it gets. That life has taken a turn into ugly and there is no going back and you better just suck it up because this is all you're getting, the hard, misery of life.  The deadness of winter. But then, just when we think we can't take one more long dark night, one long miserable day, it happens.  Spring. Why is it always so hard to believe that God won't leave us in the dark forever?  That He loves us.  That He brings darkness, even death for a mysterious reason but the morning always comes. And spring, it always follows winter. And God's love endures forever. Listen fri