In February of 1998 we moved from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.
Four months in, we found out that an annual tradition at the new school was "Waterpark Day", when the whole school would be heading out to spend the afternoon at the waterslides and pool.
The girls were in grades 4 and 5, and needed new bathing suits, so off we went to Zellers or Woolworths, or whatever it was back then, to look for new swim wear.
After what seemed like hours perusing the racks, one of them found a black suit that they both liked. There was only one in that size. They both needed the same size. We double and triple checked, and then I suggested the purple one to the other, and although grudgingly, off to the change rooms we went.
The size was good and the style was good, but that purple bathing suit was just not cutting it. I was asked to go look one more time for a black one in the right size.
I went, knowing that I had already looked at every bathing suit on that rack, and there was NOT another black one in this size. As I walked to the swim suit department I kept mumbling, "If you like me even a little bit, let there be another black suit".
I felt a tingle like electricity up my arm when my hand hit on the black bathing suit. In the right size. It had not been there fifteen minutes earlier.
All the way back to the change room my mantra changed to, "Jesus does still like me!" And I jubilantly delivered the bathing suit with the words, "Jesus LIKES me!"
There have been dark days when I've remembered that experience, and been reminded that yes, Jesus does indeed like me, so hang on for the ride and wait for the light.
It's the little things.
Like this morning.
Yesterday Micah started texting to see if we'd be in Camrose before tonight so we could bring his suit for the Christmas banquet at school.
We weren't, but our good neighbor would be, and he graciously agreed to swing through and get the suit on his way to town, and drop it off for Micah this morning.
My plan was to get up when Randall did, at 8:00, and be showered and ready to receive.
Best laid plans, and all that...
What happened was that after waking up at 3:30, and struggling to get back to sleep until after 4:30, I finally put in an ear plug before drifting off to la-la land.
At 8:51 I snapped awake in confusion. As my eyes saw the time projected onto the bedroom ceiling and my brain started to focus through the fog, I realized that I had slept through the alarm, the husband's waking, and probably his leaving for the office.
I jumped out of bed, did a quick jog through the house to see that I was indeed on my own for the suit pick up, and then threw off my pajamas, donned my jeans and a sweater, swished some mouthwash around some pretty sticky teeth and put the kettle on.
Because, I'm English enough to know that every emergency demands a hot cup of tea.
The curling iron was turned on, the hair was brushed and I'm pretty sure I didn't look like I had just woken up when the suit was handed off about 10 minutes after my rude awakening.
And as the snow was settling, and as the kettle began to sing, I said, "Thank you, Jesus, for waking me up!"
And was reminded that he really does still like me.
Gonna be a good day, no matter what.