This weekend has been the slow, lazy kind. Sometimes after the whirlwind of the week, it's all we can do to snuggle our babies, watch some old school 1959 Dennis the Menace on Netflix, and play the Wii. We slept in, ate out, and just tried to stay warm.
This morning, we didn't make it to church. We could have. We should have. But we didn't. I always feel a little guilty when we miss church. But this morning, I received quite the reminder of how God protects and keeps us, even when we don't make the effort.
As I was browsing my favorite blogs, I ran across this. Wow, indeed. As I read it, I was transported back to two years ago when a similar situation happened to me. It was during the season of my life when Eli spent ALL of his time attached to me in one way or another. When I was sitting, he was on my lap. When I was standing, he sat on the floor at my feet- one hand rubbing my leg, the other hand's thumb in his mouth. This is how I cooked nearly every meal.
On this fateful day though, I stood at the stove alone, boiling pasta in my largest dutch oven. As I picked up the pot to drain it, the handle broke cleanly off the pot. An entire dutch oven full of boiling water crashed to the floor and sprayed everywhere. Not only was baby not under my feet, but on this unseasonably cool summer day, I had on pants and slippers in lieu of my typical summer shorts or sundresses. I was completely unharmed. My baby was unharmed and playing safely in the other room.
PRAISE THE LORD!
I can't to this day think of this without getting goosebumps. Our lives could have changed dramatically that day, but didn't. Coincidence? Me thinks not.
So no, we didn't make it to church today. Thank goodness for a loving God that reminded me gently why I should have been there. Thank you Jesus for protecting my babies and my family and friends on that day, today, and every day.