sigh.

Quiet evening; third rainy/ drizzly/ grey day in a row. (And since when can't I legitimately spell grey with an e? It just feels like a grey with an e sort of day.) Most of my family is here at home where I can see, hear, and hold them. Two of my menfolk are on opposite sides of the globe. Though they are a mere phone call away, when the time difference is accounted for, it just isn't the same as having them here to see, hear, and hold.

Perhaps I am just feeling deflated tonight.

The kids are re-arranging bedrooms again so that Kate can move out of the basement which is evidently infected with a mysterious sleeping spell against which she is utterly helpless, the only remedy for which is sunlight streaming through a window. They have done this dance often enough that I need not step in. My job is to maintain the peace, which can be done without lifting a single stick of furniture.

Bright side: guest room for guests... But I need to clean up the rest of the basement in order to feel comfortable with friends going down those stairs. Sigh.

I want a cookie, or five. But my fat pants are tight.

The bills are paid. The big yard clean-up is accomplished. Everyone is healthy. The kitchen pantry overflows with food. So why am I deflated?

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
(from Psalm 121)

I miss Jim. I miss Nathaniel. My Lord is as close to each of them as He is to me here, and he knows the ache in my heart. I have so much right here around me for which to be thankful, so very much.