Last night I kept waking up and thoughts of those innocent children grabbed me. I couldn't bear to imagine them in that school and ended up pushing the thoughts aside and falling back to sleep.
This morning, I couldn't take it anymore--no more news shows. I can't handle this and am not demeaning their deaths. I just can't emotionally handle it anymore. I turned on Christmas songs and Christmas movies instead. It may be selfish but I know each one of those little ones is with the LORD and those they left behind are being comforted by Him and others. I don't care any less but I will not let the devil rob me of this day or any other days. One thing that I have learned in the last couple of days is that each day is a gift. We can choose to ignore the gift and lose the blessing or we can embrace the gift and be blessed by it. I do feel pain for those parents and grandparents and can't imagine what they are going through. They are in my prayers.
Yesterday, I received a gift and enjoyed the blessing for a short while despite the horrid events of the day. Our neighbor, Lynn (a guy) rang our doorbell. We were surprised to see him standing there.
Lynn had major heart surgery in the summer. Wayne and him had become great friends by being friendly across the street. Always greeting Wayne or me. Then we saw him with a "heart pillow". I recognized it right away since Gary went through open heart surgery years before. I brought over a big fruit basket for his wife and him as a way to say we were concerned. Wayne tried to mow his lawn. Unfortunately every time he was going to, Lynn's son beat us to it.
Our next door neighbor, Clair, has a lung problem and gets winded when he exerts himself even a little bit. All spring and summer, Wayne has been mowing his lawn when he mows ours--never excepting anything in return.
In the fall, I was painting the trim and couldn't reach the top crown of the garage. I was up on the roof trying to figure out how to paint that part when Lynn came out and yelled over. "That's the way...have her do all the work!" he was kidding of course. I yelled back that Wayne still has vertigo and can't climb up here and that I am afraid of heights but can't figure out how to do the highest part." Lynn's son was there and before I knew it, he was running across the street. "I'll do it for you!" he yelled. I was so elated that he would do that and he did! I got off the ladder shaking because after all, I am afraid of heights! I shook for thirty minutes after that. Clair's wife, Patsy, came to the door with some hot homemade muffins to thank Wayne for mowing all those times!
The trim was done but now I had to finish a second coat. That is when Wayne and I went for a walk and I fell and had my concussion. The second coat would have to wait. The week after that, Clair volunteered his son for the second coat painting. We paid him because he was out of work for almost a year and we knew he needed it. He thanked us. Several weeks later when Wayne's knee had a torn ligament and he was hobbling to the mailbox, we got a nice surprise. It seemed that Clair's son was visiting them. I happened to look out my art room window and saw Clair's son mowing our lawn! It definitely needed it and I was going to get to it but this was awesome! We both went out and he stopped the mower--"neighbors help each other!" he said, smiled and then went back to mowing.
Thank You LORD for the gift of wonderful neighbors!
Back to my first story--Lynn at the door. Lynn stood there and asked Wayne and me if we would want some fresh salmon that he just caught, cleaned, cut into steaks!! Now, Wayne doesn't eat fish and anytime I can get fish or any seafood (minus clams and scallops--I am allergic) I go for it! I grabbed the bag and thanked Lynn a million times (okay maybe a few) and went inside and made five just right sized salmon steaks for me. I am gonna have one Sunday when I hope my taste buds are up to it since I have had the flu.
I am appreciative of my two neighbors. It wasn't always that way but time has brought us together and I count them as my blessings.
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