Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, and Your faithfulness to the clouds. Psalm 36:5
I know that it will be stinking cold outside. It is cold inside. We finally, cleverly, figured out that the furnace doesn’t work as we all clump in front of the fireplace swaddled in jackets and blankets and more jackets.
Yesterday Arizona was the coldest state in the lower forty-eight.
But I also typed gift number 985. When there are still coals glowing in the morning, reminds me of His faithfulness. And the big old oleander stump is still crackling.
And I know that there are going to be a jillion icy stars out there.
But my bathing suit is still damp from yesterday.
And my fingers will turn white when I scrape the thick frost off of the windshield with my plastic ParkTucson card.
But from Campbell and Broadway I will see the big cloud of spotlight-lit steam coming up from Kaiser Pool.
And Jim the coach will be kneeling down by the edge, taking the water’s temperature, repeating again and again, “if it’s wet, it’s ice,” to all of the shivering swimmers.
And after the first 200, I am going to feel just fine.
But yesterday all that was said at the after school staff meeting was to brace ourselves for the hardest day at school ever. Not to take it personally. And not to engage with all of the middle school drama. That the kids will be flipping out over final exams and the Christmas presents from the fire department that will be the only present a bunch of them will get. And breakfast this morning might be the last breakfast they get for two weeks too.
And even though my little school seems pretty crazy a lot of the time, for some of my kiddos it is as close to normal as they get.
And I have another five dozen cookies in zip-lock bags for the refugee Center from my momma.
His love reaches to the heavens, and His faithfulness to the clouds.
And my heart can sing that refrain all day long because I already know the words.
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