We’re cozied up together with family tonight, pulling bread apart, pushing the spoon around a skillet of sizzling onions and celery for the stuffing while pumpkin and pecan cool on the counter. Passing the box of cookies sent with love to Murielle as she recovers from the accident. All rubbing our eyes at the end of some fast and furious days of fielding interruptions by claims adjusters and junk yard dogs, ironing tables cloths and standing in line at the grocery store for the third time.
The story I wrote about Murielle’s accident, the way God saved her life that night, it was selected to appear on Freshly Pressed, the WordPress.com home page where 390 million people view 3.8 billion pages a day. When there are 31.7 million new posts each month, I’m feeling a bit humbled. We’ve stood with our hands over our mouths, shaking our heads in the glory of it all. How God can take a horrific event and redeem it into a thing of beauty.
Hundreds say it’s beautiful over and over again in the comments, like a book of days declaring His faithfulness. And you just can’t plan that kind of awe.
Tomorrow, when I scoot my chair into the table of steamy turkey straight from the oven, flayed open white, I won’t worry if the gravy is lumpy, the potatoes undercooked, the decorations perfect. I will remember the day I nearly lost my only daughter. We’ll hold hands around the table and thank him that we have life, that miracles aren’t just for fairy tales.
And I’ll thank Him for each of one of you too. For the way you’ve buoyed us in bending your knees on our behalf. Giving thanks takes on new meaning for us all this year. I’m not sure we’ll ever be quite the same. At least I hope not.