Thankful

The outside thermometer reads 16 F. this morning. Brr! I can hear the furnace running, and I'm sure it will soon be comfortable in the house. I'm old enough to remember when we always woke up cold in the winter, and our parents had to go to the basement and put wood or coal in the furnace to warm us up again. I can still hear my father exclaim, "Even heat! Even heat!" after he converted our furnace to stoker-fed. So this morning I'm giving thanks for the blessing of automatic gas heat. And praying with compassion for those who aren't so blessed, and are shivering this morning.

I've crawled out of that extreme tiredness I was feeling all week. But there's a mystery I haven't solved yet. I still have this overhanging sense that something isn't right. It's like the anxiety you feel when you need to make something right, or when there's something you promised to do and you've forgotten or neglected to do it. Or like the classic nightmare of realizing it's time for the final exam and you haven't gone to class all semester. Maybe even like people in the early stages of senility; they know they're missing something important, but the synapses don't connect and they can't "fix" the feeling. Yesterday I read, "If you need wisdom--if you want to know what God wants you to do--ask him, and he will gladly tell you. He will not resent your asking. But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer, for a doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind" (James 1:5,6). That's a fantastic promise. I'm asking God to let me know if this strange feeling is to let me know there's something He wants me to do. I'm expecting an answer.

I'm thankful for the incredible protection I'm given every day against common effects of kemo, and also against the multitude of germs being coughed in my direction daily. I feel so blessed. Chuck's respiratory infection is also much improved. Thanks so much for your prayers.

I hope you'll have a great day.

Carol