The Promise of Right Now

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. Yesterday, I had a list of posts I intended to write—some fully drafted, others just fragments of thoughts and scattered notes. But then came the news from Moore, Oklahoma, and everything else seemed trivial. The images of destruction were overwhelming, and I felt compelled to put pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—and express the emotions swirling inside me. It's not polished prose, but it’s raw, heartfelt, and honest. As I sat down to write, I couldn't help but think about how my own worries and daily struggles pale in comparison to what countless families are enduring right now. Last night, my husband Chris left for a business trip, and I remember dropping him off at the airport with our little girl. By the time we got home, chaos had already started brewing. Our three-year-old had an unexpected meltdown over needing a bathroom break, and what should’ve been a quick stop turned into an exhausting ordeal at Target. After finally getting him settled with a friend, I rushed back home to face another challenge: my son wasn’t feeling well. A trip to the doctor confirmed strep throat, and after picking up the prescription, we spent the rest of the evening making soup and trying to keep spirits high. This morning brought its own set of challenges—a round of coughing fits, a visit to the pharmacy, and general exhaustion. Yet despite it all, I'm grateful. Grateful for the privilege of caring for my children, of being able to comfort them during illness, and of knowing they're safe under my roof. There’s something humbling about moments like these, where the smallest gestures—like wiping a feverish forehead or tucking in a child—are reminders of the blessings we often take for granted. Yesterday, someone somewhere lost everything. And today, I'm sitting here counting mine. Someone once said, "Tomorrow is a gift, not a promise." In light of recent events, those words resonate deeply. They remind me to cherish every moment I have with my family, to find joy in the little things, and to never underestimate the power of gratitude. [Insert image: "Home with Kids" – 700x467] The resilience of humanity never ceases to amaze me. As the dust settles in Oklahoma, I see stories of courage and compassion emerging. People are stepping up to help, offering their time, resources, and love. If you're looking for ways to contribute, consider texting REDCROSS to 90999 to donate $10 to the American Red Cross. Every bit helps. For more options, check out Pioneer Woman's list of relief efforts. As I type this, my kids are finally asleep upstairs, their breathing soft and steady. I sit here reflecting on the fragility of life and the strength found in community. Oklahoma, you're in my thoughts. Your resilience inspires us all. Signing off,
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