Shattered Glass

Yesterday we returned home from a quick trip to the park only to discover a mosaic of glass on our sliding glass door. I'm not sure what happened--this was no bird--but a golf ball, a rock, a baseball, a whatever ball smashed into our glass, giving it quite the look. Of course I felt my stomach in my throat because I suddenly saw thousands of pieces of glass spread all over the patio and two little boys without their shoes. All I could think about was calling Brian and crying to him in panic as he sat in his cubicle at work, patiently listening and forever loving. But I didn't have that option. Instead, I took a deep breath and called my brother in LA. What I needed was help processing and that he did. Sure, this was a problem, but a solvable problem. And there were friends to call who would guide me in the right direction. So I called the two people who I knew could help me, and the ball began to roll.

A year ago I would have kept panicking, for at least a few more hours. Now I don't. Sanctification is a great thing.

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