Thank you . . . no really Thank You

It was a dark night in the frozen north, only days before Thanksgiving and the family was sleeping peacefully.  Suddenly, as if in a nightmare I was wakened by a hand on my shoulder and a weak voice gurgling, "Mommy I have to vomit."  Suddenly I was wide awake and quasi-alert. I jumped out of bed and rushed the voice to the bathroom.  After a significant amount of gagging and retching we went back to my room and rested next to the "barf bucket" until beginning another round of digestive purging.  This continued off and on for the next several hours. During which time the only sounds I heard were "hhhck hhhck blech splatt," and "Mommy can I please not go to school tomorrow?" I laughed sleepily to myself and answered, "Of course you don't have to go honey," before drifting back into my vomit free dreamland.

It was later that night, or early the next morning depending on how one looks at things, when I called the school to let them know there would be an absence that day.  The secretary informed me that half of the school was absent and that school would probably be closed early due to the weather.  I must have made some unconscious noise of ignorance because the next thing she asked was, "Have you been outside yet?" To which I responded, "No.  I have spent the last several hours next to the barf bucket." I could almost hear her gag reflex working over time as she explained that it was raining and the main highway into town was closed as a result.  I thanked her for the information and blissfully went back to sleep, but only briefly. As I lay there, I thought about the fact that if my daughter had not woken up sick, we would be out in that danger and mess stuck.  I thanked God for vomit.  In a fallen world He still uses all things to work for my good. Why? Because I love Him and am called according to His purpose. For that I am far more thankful.