Captivity and Gratitude

As I sat at my desk last night feeling miserable that I would be spending the night at work and away from my family, I watched on Facebook as a friend of mine and her two very small children sat in an increasingly perilous situation on the freeway with no food or gas. I prayed while my heart leaked out of my eyes for them and I knew I wouldn't sleep until I saw that they made it to safety. They did. 

Praise the Lord.

I slept on the floor for about five hours last night, and while it was slightly softer than the cave floor at DeSoto Caverns (and a whole lot warmer and dryer), it was still very hard. My usual sarcastic, snarky voice is whispering to me about sleeping on floors for too few hours and waking up only to be forced to interact with people, but I'm having trouble hearing it over the gratitude in my heart. Don't get me wrong, I am desperate to leave this place and not come back for days, but I'm also so very grateful that I'm safe and warm and fed. That my family is safe and warm and fed. We aren't together, but everyone is accounted for and well. 

Praise the Lord.

This morning, when I talked to the kids, I asked Luke if he was going to play in the snow today. I was met with a long pause, and then, "I want to go to the beach." He really has a way of making a point. 

I didn't have the heart to tell him that the beach is frozen, too.