My sister Ellen is always the best hostess. She put together a marvelous dinner party for Mom and us on the 11th, with home made manicotti, too many great appetizers to count, and a beautiful cake she created out of a cheesecake and cream puffs. It was drizzled with chocolate syrup, and topped with candles—not only beautiful, but perfectly delicious. As always, I left wanting more of my sister.
We'll stay home long enough to unpack, wash clothes, repack, go to church, and bake cookies for our good neighbor Doug, who watches over our home when we're traveling (and when we're home, he's just a great guy to have around.) Then on Monday we'll take off again. We'll go to Louisiana. What? We were just there. We just don't want the kids to be alone on Christmas. Why should we do Christmas alone at our home, and have them be alone at theirs? It's better to be together.
We'll pull the trailer and continue to pray for decent weather and safety on the road, since we don't usually travel during the Winter months. This time the trailer will have their new bed in it, and they'll have John to help them turn the nursery into a guest room. I'm so glad they wanted us back. It seems unfair that some strange mess up has postponed their trip, but there's nothing any of us can do about that. We do only what we can. The rest is out of our hands.
Someone at Bingo, referring to the tragedy of Jeremiah's death, asked me why this would happen. "How can things like this happen? It's so unfair!" I've heard that so frequently lately, and I know what they mean. I told her what I've heard myself saying lately. Unless we're going to question every blessing we receive, it's not really fair to question the trials.
I've had too many blessings to count. We're going to Shreveport to visit a couple of them.