Psalm 107: 29...He calmed the storm {within my mother} to a whisper

Once in a while, the storm breaks and the cloud of worry that envelops me...dissipates...and all I can do is be so grateful for the clear skies and warmth that suddenly surrounds me.

It happened in small, subtle stages that went unnoticed as, a few days before Easter, I had flowers delivered to my Mom's apartment. My dad was a dedicated bouquet-bestower. His favorite flower to give my mother always made me laugh: Only Earl F. DeLong would present his tiny, barely 5-foot-tall, wife with towering gladiolas. 

I usually grab a grocery store bundle of bright blossoms every few weeks but, for special occasions, I channel my father. Mom is fond of soft pinks and purples and her spotty memory miraculously maintains her mother's favorite flower: Daisies. I carefully selected a bouquet that would include beautiful pink roses and Grandma's daisies. Order made:  I quickly forgot about it.

On our way to celebrate Easter a day early with Mom, I made a quick and silly impulse-buy at the store, tossing cute, theme-decorated plates into my bag. Purchase complete...I then forgot about it.

Brad and I arrived at her apartment and, immediately after greeting her with happy hugs, set out on our usual, hopefully discreet, inventory of her rooms. Mom, meanwhile, began squirreling through the bag I had left on her kitchen table. Her squeal caught my attention and I whirled around to see her admiring the plates. She assigned Brad the blue bunny plate and then asked me which one was mine. I grinned at her. "Your favorite color is pink so you get the pink bunny plate and I get the yellow chick." Satisfied, Mom set the table.

We enjoyed potato patties and angel food cake before letting Brad drag us outside despite my concern that the gray clouds would soon be delivering on their promise. The temperature was pleasant but the wind whipped our hair into tiny tendril tornadoes. I threatened to tie a rope to my petite mother so I could fly her like a kite. Brad kept up a brisk pace as a drizzle tried dampening our spirits as we made a dash for the door...my Mom laughing the entire time.

Laughing.

We made our usual quick visual sweep of the apartment to make sure if Mom needed anything as we got ready to leave. Mom stood at the little table by her window and adjusted her vase of flowers. "I have to keep turning them," she explained to my husband, "because it's pretty from all sides."

Thank you, God, for the break in our storm. The sun broke through and we were able to simply bask in the enjoyment of one another's company and our love for one another. Every day is a gift.