Our power just came back on after what seemed a rather inconvenient hour and a half off.  Please bear in mind that it’s after midnight now.  That means my precious children, whom I had washed and scrubbed and fed and tucked in at 9pm — and kept hearing them flip-flopping about in their beds — were up at 10pm when the nightlights, the hall light, the bathroom light all went out.

My first, very Godly thought, FABULOUS.

I didn’t know how long this would last; frankly, we’re blessed that this is the first time the power’s ever gone out on us in the four plus years D’s been full time on the road.  We’ve never done this kind of thing by ourselves, so it felt more than a little scary when it happened.  I am afraid of the dark.  There, I said it.  I feel better. Sorta.  I am also painfully afraid of being alone (which presents inherent problems given our situation) so I’d been just *awake* until around 3:30am Saturday morning already and *needed* to get to sleep tonight.  A power outage does NOTHING to relax me.

However, as He is… always doing? constantly there for? continually surprising?… well, as He IS, there is much more to this story He need widen my narrowed vision to receive.

I had the angels sit on LittleMan’s bed while I found a couple of candles, called to report the outage (which by all appearances had blackened our street), and showed LittleBit how to move the cursor on my laptop so the screen would stay lit for them.  Since the worst case was power out all night (and I am a control freak who would jump at every noise if we were locked up together in a bedroom wondering who or what lay down the stairs or hall), I moved all the candles into our living room/breakfast/kitchen area and had the angels join me there. We made a home in the middle of the floor, twin mattress and fifteen blankets dragged in to make a big lump where Legos should be.

As I tucked them in again, we talked about the sheer *goodness* of God — yes, the power is out, but there’s a full moon so we can see EVERYTHING in our yard and a lot of the floor under east windows.  A week ago we pulled out candles to enhance the open window freshness of fall; had we been prompted last week, there’s no way I could have found them tonight.  And there were PLENTY of candles! We’d just caught a sale on them last night so we bought an extra, but we never lit it; in fact, we had so many as I gathered them in the living room that we had several as backups.  The tiny oil lamp D brought home from Israel two years ago was enough to light my kitchen comfortably and remind us of His Word as light to our feet and path.  We thanked God that I had cleaned out my purse (I could put a period here) and left the battery power cell phone charger on our counter, so it was handy.  We thanked Him for clean sheets this evening and sweet rest and perfect — stunningly perfect — provision.

Discussion finished, formal prayer commenced: I prayed my thanks again and LittleBit prayed for her brother in Africa to “get lots of money we send so he can have a home with his family.”  We smooched and said goodnight and lay waiting for sleep.

As I stare up at the ceiling from the couch, I survey what I can without moving much, mainly our pot rack.  I remember thinking that my friends who had a pot rack were RICH when I was little.  It just seemed so *extravagant* to have so many kitchen things you either needed to hang them for more room or you had a matching set you could comfortably display.  And now, here I am, staring at my pot rack that I wanted so badly and think literally nothing of now.

And I’m hearing the sighs and little mattress moves of wriggly bodies finally slowing.  Wriggling that I spend much of my day trying to stop, contain, or redirect, now welcome and sweet and memorable.

We were nearly out when the hall light flickered.  We sat up, poised for — something.  Instead, the phone rang.  D got my text message and talked to anxious little ones (and big one, too).  As we finished with him, the lights ignited all around us.  We were safe and grateful.   The pot rack faded back into the wall and wriggling commenced again, though completely drown out by giggles.

Much to Little Bit’s dismay, we did not spend the night in the middle of the living room.  D promised her that we’d camp in the living room when it got good and chilly and we could fall asleep in front of the fire after roasting marshmallows.  That helped.  LittleMan was so tired he went straight to bed and chuckled into his pillow.

And as I kissed them and prayed over them for the third time in two hours, I just felt *different* — like maybe I’m not missing so much, maybe they really are getting what they need, maybe we really are “normal” in some fashion.  And definitely because God showed Himself so strong for us — preparing candles a week ago, providing a full moon, placing a phone charger.  Amazing.  Such tiny details, such consummate attention.

There’s more to this lesson, and I want to write it, but I have to go to sleep now.  I am exhausted.  Blown away and blessed, and gratefully.

LORD, You know the rest of this lesson.  You are completely familiar with the lessons that will spring off this one in the future.  Ah…. you are SOOOOOOO good! 

Thank You for perfect provision.  Thank You for a special grace over our children where inconvenient circumstances prompt our daughter to pray for those with no homes at all. I am humbled by her heart — Your heart — and her love of Scripture!

LORD, tonight we all need to sleep.  Please be with us, please cause us to sleep and be rested when we enter the church!  I love you! AMEN.