Sunday morning dawned and I moved to get the kids up and ready to go. It was a relatively warm day, but three nights without sleep were taking their toll, and I was ice cold. I bundled up, methodically working through the steps to get ready to go to church.. hair, teeth, clothes, kids... I decided we would get a treat on the way to church rather than attempt breakfast at home. We'd grab some freshly baked goods to eat.
Ten minutes before we were to leave, I was feeling nervous. What if I could not handle all the people? Should I leave the house and the phones? What if he called? What if I just started sobbing and couldn't stop in front of all these people? I regretted saying I would be there.
Then the doorbell rang. I was still in my pjs, so wasn't sure about opening it, but peeked out. Ahh.. a friend. I had tried to phone her several times yesterday, but there was no answer. She had been out all Friday and Saturday and had only got home late that night and had heard the news. She has four kids of her own and needed to get them ready for church, too, but she came over. She just came over to drop off some cookies and to give me a hug. I leaned against her for a few minutes resting, drawing strength to face my day.
A small blessing, but one I so needed just then.
Then we headed out the door to church.
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