I have no weapon against worry, except thanks

The truth is, the children haven't been up an hour and already I've mediated four arguments, all of them foolish.

The truth is, I woke up in panic last night, asking what if? about his drive home from work on black ice in black morning.

The truth is, I woke up in worry this morning, over electricity and how long it would take to come back.

I have no weapon against worry, except thanks. I stand no chance against what if until I give thanks for what is. Ann writes in her book about nail driving out nail--replacing old habit with new. So I wake, and continue the gratitude list:

#39 Caed, persuading his classmate that a little sister is just as awesome as a little brother. "Sisters are so fun, especially when they're like 3 or 4. They're just hilarious!"

#40 Dani, insisting she go everywhere with her brother, even turning down an offer for her very first pedicure, saying she'd rather wait to do that until "Caed is abailable to go witd me."

#41 Finding the camera I thought I'd lost at the ice rink (sighs of relief)

#42 Watching her wobble, first time on skates

#43 Her daddy, always there to catch

#44 And before long, she's ready for 70s style ice dancing

#45 His growing confidence on ice

#46 Wearing puffy vest handed down from hero cousins

#47 The snow, then ice, stretching again like clean white sheets over the ugly bloomless thaw

#48 The tiny flicker of her nightlight from across the hall, signaling return of electricity against all odds and ice

#49 Warmth, coffee, internet, hot showers--morning gifts courtesy of resilient power lines

#50 Her polka-dotted fleece jammies

#51 His grown-out buzz cut, adding straight-up inches to his frame and messy boyishness to his look

#52 Morning hugs

#53 Husband sliding home from work safely in dark morning, midst of storm