I feel blessed, today especially, to be surrounded by faithful friends who are praying for my son, and all of us. As we entered the church this morning, we were greeted by hugs and encouraging words. But, after recounting the events of the past week at least 20 times, Steve and I were exhausted.
So, after church, we ate out again. Pushed by a sense of emotional depletion and pulled toward the proverbial "comfort" food, we opted for Wendy's chili and baked potatoes (grand total: $12.50). It's funny how the mind works, in order of priority. On January 1, our commitment to reign in our spending and improve our health seemed like a worthy goal. Today, and all this week, it has dwarfed in comparison to our now ever-present challenge: helping our son to heal. I know, intellectually, that we still need to stay on track financially, but my heart is having trouble following through. I guess grief works like that.
A friend invited me to her house this afternoon, and I'm so glad I stepped out of the fog and accepted her invitation. We took a cold, brisk walk around her neighborhood, followed by wheat toast with homemade raspberry jam and hot coca, complete with mini marshmallows. We talked while soothing music played in the background, and when I left I felt a little stronger, a little clearer, a little more convinced of God's presence during our suffering. I also got another reminder that food isn't the comforter, but that the Comforter works through compassionate people willing to offer their hearts, homes and hot chocolate to the needy.
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