I feel guilty typing these words: nothing happened to us. The lights flickered dramatically, but the power stayed on. The trees scrubbed the sky and touched their toes and creaked like an old man's bones, but we didn't lose a one. The guilt comes because others weren't as blessed. Fourteen people succumbed to crashing trees, downed power lines, carbon monoxide poisoning, and a flooded basement, all while we sat inside listening to the wind and sipping cocoa. One and a half million people lost their power; several thousand are still in the dark nearly a week later.
Thank you for your prayers. Please pray for those still struggling.
My only trauma this week is a mysteriously sprained right thumb. It makes typing miserable (the thumb brace eats all my "n's" so I have to keep typing with all the wrong fingers), but how do you complain about something so tiny in the wake of so many real losses?
I won't. I'll just say that I'm taking a little break this week and I'll be back as soon as typing becomes a joy again.
If that doesn't happen before Monday, I pray you have a blessed, Christ-centered Christmas.