Sweet Laughter.

It was late last night, dark as we left the auction house with my prize strapped overhead on the van. Anticipated Village Inn pie-for-dinner night had not come, as the auction carried on late. Outbid was the word of my night. Disappointments, many in this day. But there it was, the thing that would give a little meaning to our time spent in the boxes of oddities and rows of furniture. A tall chest of drawers, a lavish lingerie chest taller then me, with a beautiful Tiffany-box-blue crackly finish. It was the first thing I noticed that night. And, oh how I hoped to take it home. Sadly, I didn’t win the box of American girl dolls and their clothes and furniture. Sadly, I left the vintage cups, the old tin buckets that would have been darling planters. But, my hand rose decidedly up and up at the blue-green treasure.

It was mine, as well as the van full of tired, hungry children after Cinderella’s stroke of midnight. Even the drive thru was closed. We drove in the wrong direction. For a long way. My husband was tired, too tired. At last, with cheeseburgers, we were on the windy road back into the mountains. Brights on. A chubby black and white critter stood in the road, and made no attempts to move out of the way. “No!” I squealed, afraid of the lingering smell of impact, just having rid ourselves of the lingering smell on dog with skunk encounter. “Don’t hit it!”

Slow motion. We hit the brakes and the van did it’s best to stop, so close we could no longer see the skunk as it brushed the bumper. Slow motion, Pop! went the ropes holding the beautiful chest of drawers. We saw it fly off the van and into the curving road before us, crash! Landing right where the startled skunk stood. I winced my eyes, gasped. Then, the very frightened little animal waddled away, confused, heart-thumping. But we were skunked, and my early birthday present lay battered in the road, children gaping. The vision of flying furniture replaying in my shocked mind.

There was nothing for it. We stepped into the deep smelling, starry night and retrieved the piece, cramming it this time into the van. And as I smooshed back into my seat, in the few inches between the slender dresser and my door, remembering the dresser flying, seeing startled skunk running away, having escaped death twice in a matter of seconds I about died laughing till the tears came.  Melanie, daddy, looked at me with disbelief. There was nothing left but the hilarity of the days worth of mishaps.

And some days are like that. I know this very much first hand. Bad things happen, and sometimes all together. And if our hopes rest on the outcome of one day, we’d be skunked a lot.  Thankfully Jesus gives us much more to live for, to care for.  Our roots grow deep so that we can withstand flying dressers and smelly encounters, and two toddler boys smearing the contents of the trash can over your bathroom with the toilet brush just after self-hair-cutting.  Some days we need much deeper roots. Roots that not only hold our ground, but drink deeper of His water. Roots that make us bloom for His glory.

^{Ephesians 3:17} that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love,  may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height—to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Bad days pass. But the God, who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, is always there. He loved me through laughter yesterday, sweet hilarious laughter. And I supposed He loved that little skunk too.

Lord, may I bring laughter into my home where grumpiness lurks. May I show my children cheerfulness in trying moments, rather then harshness. May I live life chip-free, with a watering can in hand, drawing from Your living water.