I left work a few minutes early because this morning I offered to take dinner to a young mom who grew up in our church and recently moved back to our small town. As I moved around the familiar curves a doe dashed out into the road. I hit the brakes, but she still managed to hit my van. I pulled over immediately. Fish and Wildlife was called. I called my brother, who came to wait with me. The doe was laying in the grass next to the road. We waited. After about ten minutes I noticed she was now sitting upright, her head up, her legs tucked under her. We waited. Another ten or fifteen minutes pass. Suddenly the doe gets up, her legs are wobbly, but she meanders down over the bank into the woods. Apparently she's okay, just stunned. So my brother and I each head our separate ways, home. Everything in my day is pushed back.
I follow the school bus down our street and behind the kids. Eric pulls in after me. We talk about the hour we have until we are supposed to be back at the church, to put on the final coat of paint in one of the children's rooms. We load the kids up, instructing them to take their homework and books to read. We go to Taco Time for dinner. I text Brian, who is helping us paint, that we are running late. I text my friend, who we are taking dinner, that we are running late. Run to Haggen and buy her dinner. Absolutely nothing is homemade. We deliver.
And then the men paint. Feeling so grateful for Brian, Eric's cousin, who used to paint professionally. Feeling thankful also for his wife, my friend, who is home with their three kids, doing what needs to be done there, so he can be here, helping us. I finish up work that didn't get done earlier in the day. The kids do their homework.
Home feels wonderful when we finally return. I am thankful I had printed off the advent calendar this morning, while the kids got ready for school. I had an advent reading plan I wanted us to use for our nightly devotions and so I had written the Scripture references on the back of each calendar piece. It's always a bit of discussion about who gets to read first, mostly because when it's your turn you also get a piece of chocolate. We decided to make a "Gracie Sandwich" with Mercy first, since as the middle child she rarely gets that privilege. It took some time for her to find the right passage, slowing us down, helping the chaos of the evening to fade away.
Come Lord Jesus, come.