widespread

Everyday I’ve been wanting to write. When the morning comes, I’ll choose to go on a walk instead. “This afternoon”, I’ll say to myself. When the afternoon comes, I’ll begin a post, but not finish it. “This evening.” The evening comes, and I’ve told the kids before, that by 8:30, I’ve reached the limits of talking, thinking, or answering questions. I can still say prayers.

The decision was made to cancel camp for the summer. It wasn’t a shock to hear the news, but it still hurt to hear it made officially real. I was eavesdropping outside the door of my husband’s office, listening in on their zoom meeting where the discussion was taking place. Maybe that was wrong, I don’t know. If it was, then I’m sorry, and if it wasn’t, then it stands.

My kids were supposed to be in a wedding next month and my husband was supposed to preach the wedding sermon. Due to the current restrictions in our state, and out of consideration for travel arrangements and safety of guests, the wedding plans were changed to be immediate family only. This one hurt, too. I feel also for the bride and the groom and for their parents. This couple wasn’t supposed to face such things so soon.

In the midst of disappointment, as the picture above shows, there are still beautiful things on the earth. She will still be a beautiful bride and the bridegroom will still be a tender, loving husband. Every single one of those parents will cry, first in sorrow in what wasn’t meant to be, and then the tears of joy will flow, from the purest form of love and pride. Even in sorrow, joy is their story, for joy is what our Father has said will come next.

The kids are still taking all of this pretty well. I worry most about the older, teenage ones, who are suffering more from the lack of social contact. God-willing I plan to keep going with school, though I promised the kids we would also take breaks. I’ve been trying to get my hands on some sweet-potato slips, but am letting them sit in my online shopping cart for a day. It seems my heart is yearning now for a hundred hopes of morning glory.

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