About seven years ago I made a promise to myself.
Every year, on the anniversary of the Joplin tornado, I would read THIS POST I had written about what my family had experienced that Sunday afternoon.
I would read it and remember.
I would remember what God did for us.
His faithfulness.
His mercy.
His almost impossible-to-comprehend goodness.

You see, I belive that God gave my family an amazing beautiful gift that day. When that battered old brown truck pulled into my yard, carrying four safe passengers who were able to be received by an entire protected family…well…there weren’t and still aren’t enough words to describe my gratefulness.

Seven years is not a super short amount of time. It’s relatively easy to move on about our daily business without really thinking about the disaster that struck our town that day. But I made that promise to myself because I feel like it’s so incredibly important to remind myself of how beautifully God sheltered my family, and how lucky we are that He gave us this time together here–on this side of heaven.

Living in the past isn’t the best idea.
Remembering God’s faithfulness is.

So today I read this story. I still tear up…I still feel that scary empty feeling when I couldn’t put my arms around my middle child and nephew and knew they were out in that monster storm, I still hear the hissing of gas and the cold rain…

But I also can remember the unbelievable unfathomable indescribable joy that welled up and exploded in mu heart when I wrapped my body around those dirty wet grimy squirming boys after God had delivered them to me.

And that feeling? That one of abject thankfulness?

That is the one I want to remember every single year.

So I keep my promise.
I read this post, and I thank Him. Hugely.
Then I pour another cup of coffee and go upstairs to wake my grumpy kiddos and begin our chaos.
And I walk through this beautiful day with an overflowing heart.