Mulititude Monday, Ruby edition

After a week of being away, I was ready to see my husband again. I was tired of staying up until all hours of the night, and feeling afraid that I would be murdered in my bed as soon as the lights turned out.

It was Thursday night and the week was NEARLY over. I was talking to Matt on the phone and he sounded as exhausted as I felt. After a while, he said "Well, I am fading fast. I better get myself to a hotel. I just can't decide if I ought to get on the other side of Boston before I stop." Boston....too far away from me, but at least he was on his way home.

We hung up the phone and I got to work in my craft room making some Judah outfits out of Mattie sweaters (you'll see...) It was quiet, it was dark, and my eyes were dry. A week worth of being a nightowl was catching up on me, so around midnight I forced myself to hit the sack so I wouldn't crash and burn when Matt finally *DID* get home. I took off my clothes, took out my contacts and turned off the last light in the house. And as usual, the moment the light shut off-I started thinking about murderers, rapists and thieves. I laid down in bed, praying for one more nights safety (for Matt and I both) when all of the sudden I heard a creak.

Could it be? Yes, it was definitely a soft, slow creak coming from the front door. My brain told me it was probably just my overactive imagination, but my heart started pounding just the same.

Then, quiet footprints. Was one of the children going to the bathroom? I listened harder-no. Those were workboots. Big ones, though they were trying to be quiet....

My heart was now thumping wildly. I was blind as a bat, naked as a jaybird, I don't OWN a baseball bat, and the gun was downstairs where the footprints were. I tiptoed down the stairs in my bathrobe, not sure what to do other than to politely ask the mass murderer to leave, praying it was all just my imagination. The bathroom light was on. Had I left it on?

But there was a man's figure in the doorway.

Since you are reading this now, you must know that I did not die that night, nor my family. Matt had LIED to me (and the man is too good a liar for his own good-or mine) and had driven straight through, from Maine to Pennsylvania, over 10 hours.

My worst nightmare turned into a dream come true, because when I went to bed that night, it wasn't empty and lonely and cold.

There is MUCH to be thankful for this week.

• not being murdered in my bed

• the family surviving another week, not whole
• a 20 hour car trip, safely overwith
• a most wonderful, kind, encouraging comment from my mom, just out the blue
  
• a fresh haircut for a Newman waif
• a freezer full of chicken
• 5 bushels of apples for storing-at a super duper price
• too many books, what a wonderful problem to have
• getting to the last blue skein in the afghan
• a new PUPPY, free for the taking, named RUBY
  

• said puppy, who keeps you company while doing chores-no leash required.
• roasted vegetables
• a handed down stairstepper, that is hideous to look at but really, really helpful
• a bushel of potatoes, given (along with the puppy)
• a girl who sings gibberish during church, but who sings heartfelt just the same
• a stretch of warm days
• a new batch of bunnies
• belting out tunes while you work
• eyes opened to my own weaknesses; it is painful, oh yes, but necessary if I want to become better

#671- #689 reasons why I can be thankful even BEFORE Thanksgiving.