He fills the longing soul with good things. Ps. 107:9

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Hero

Bittersweet.

This weekend I got to play violin with my two sisters in the GBS Christmas orchestra one last time before my big sis moves to Europe. There's nothing like it. The long, hot dress rehearsal. My dad and sister and friends running around like decapitated chickens, solving myriad problems that I know nothing about. My mentor and dear friend Mrs. Miller sitting right beside me, making comments in a way that only she can. The exciting rush during the street scene. The tears as the drama - still new and fresh to me since I'm visiting - tells the old story. The choking smell of the artifical smoke for the angels scene. And the adrenalin rush of performance. It feels so good to have my back aching and my fingers black from the fingerboard. So this is what it feels like to play, I remember. And the overwhelming emotion as my dad is enthusiastically honored at the end of the programs. They think he's a hero. My sisters and I cry and hold hands. We don't think he is - we know he is.
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SNOW!

The baby woke me up earlier than I wanted this morning. I stumbled to the living room to feed him so he wouldn’t wake up the other kids. Dad was the only one up – I could hear his tractor outside as he hauled wood to the house in the dark (for his pet "Big Red" - a monster of a furnace). And then as the light came slowly – I realized that it was snowing! Dad hates snow, but he’s a good sport about it.

The kids are so excited. Karissa didn’t even really know what it was….”It’s COLD!” She said.

What a cozy feeling – standing in mamma’s kitchen getting dinner in the crock pot - looking out at the white everything. Then I stepped outside to feel it. Biting, dry cold. And that beautiful crunching under my slippers….It brought tears. Only a snow-loving Yankee transplanted into the Deep South could completely understand why this is all so incredibly exciting.
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