Tonight we attended the Christmas production at LINC (our church). It was magical and our girls sat in awe as they watched Aunty Erin and Aunty Nicky dancing on the stage.
We had promised to buy them an ice cream afterwards and while Marc was queuing to pay, Ryen came to sit with me a little way off,where I was waiting for them. Friends milled about, chatting and there was the general hustle and bustle that comes with fellowship and MANY many people.
And then all the lights went out. Now you’ll need to picture this: we meet at a Litchi Orchard. It is DARK with no lights. DARK! It is pouring with rain and so people are jammed packed in under cover. We are a hot mess of bodies in a dark mess of BLACK darkness.
I say, “Ry, stand still. Mica …”. WHERE is Mica? “Mica”! A little louder, “MICA”! “Marc, where is Mica”? And then PANIC! Marc and I both start shouting, “Mica! Mica”! Ryen is sobbing for her sister, other people start running, calling for her. Marc has his iPhone on torch mode and is holding it above his head shouting in his deep voice, scanning the crowd. Some one (I think Lyndall – thank you, Lynds!) says she went out the side door. Marc is running and we are both still shouting. Ryen is hysterical (Emme is fast asleep in her pram and Courts is in Jo’burg) and we have other people looking, looking. Time stands still and I have one of those “what if” moments. “God please” is all I can muster.
“Marc, Marc! Here she is”. I hear it before I see it and my knees almost buckle in relief. In what was probably only 3 minutes I had gone through every possibility and through everything my little girl could be feeling! I follow the beam of Marc’s torch through the window where I stand, and there, perched on my angel friend, Sam’s lap is my Mica. Happy as Larry. Totally oblivious to everything but the fact that “there is no power, Mom”.
I scoop my hysterical 5year old up to show her her safe little sister and together we say, “Thank you, God”.
“Thank you, God” seems like such a small measure for what I felt. Because as I stood there, it hit me. All day, every day, He is saving us. He is preventing near death, possible disasters, pain … The list is endless. Every moment we have with hearts beating and breath in our lungs is a “Thank you, God” moment.
Thank you, God! May I live with a grateful heart. May I run this race with Your mercy and strength and may I never stop saying, “Thank you, God” .
P.s moms have to have eyes in the back of their heads, I tell you! These things happen so quickly! New rule in the Maurel home: you may not leave the pram when we are out because you need to help look after Emme (wink wink).
P.s.s there were no ice creams, the girls had cupcakes instead.