So the phone rang last night–never good news, when the phone rings at night–they’re taking Aunt Joan back to the hospital, her fever has returned. It hadn’t been 24 hours, I don’t think, since they’d discharged her.
Tomorrow we hit the terrifying Garden State Parkway for Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s house. Once upon a time Thanksgiving meant a huge family gathering. Now there are only the four of us left, Patty and me, my brother and sister. Everyone else has either died or moved too far away for any personal contact. And we have to walk on eggs tomorrow because my brother is a hair-trigger leftid and we feel sorry for him. My sister has a new job, is being worked to a frazzle, but didn’t want to skip Thanksgiving.
I find that the more I need them, the more I get out of my memories. Their flavor is stronger and richer than it once was. The more evil grows this age, the more recourse I have to prayer and to the Bible. These call forth my thankfulness. God’s Word brings forth hope. And the more we need from it, the more it has to give.