One Thousand Gifts . . .

Saturday night and I crawl into bed and not an inch is free from pain.  The soreness of the week's preparing, the soaking of the heat advisory sun shining on back to back four ballgames to a tournament placing of second.  The putting up of vegetables all in between and the sleepless nights of wondering how to get it all done and planning and seeking strength and prepare their hearts and hold me up and remind me, Lord.

My list continues . . .

three pillows

darkness

leftovers

sunshades

ponytails

icechests

sunscreen

momentary clouds

promise of more

proud smiles

girls first, winning second

teammates

medals

her joy

Christmas lights

fabric remnants

fishing line

imagination

helping hands

encouraging words

piglets

strawberry cake

a delivered drink

rain

corn from a friend

stolen moments

stolen kisses

all of these with a bow on top in the form of a partner and friend.  Her struggling with me soaking in the joy and accomplishment of hard work.  Balance and acceptance and love and forgiveness and patience and watermelon.  I'm left and she's right.

Two Hundred and Twenty-Five children.

One hundred and five workers and friends.

The promise of more.

The promise of salvation.

My list, # 69-100.