I am grateful I can sit at my desk in my warm home and listen to the dripping of this wet Friday – dripping that will turn to ice this afternoon, changing over to snow.

I am grateful to have Mom and Dad’s china to eat on tonight…celebrating their 68th wedding anniversary in my mind. Happy Anniversary, Dad and Mom.

I am grateful for a pay raise and a wonderful job.

I am grateful for online children’s book shopping at lunchtime. I can add to my cart all the day long and never click on “check out.” I’m pretty sure I would love “Meet the Dullards” and “Grumpy Monkey.”

I am grateful for the quiet “whhhh-chk” sound that happens about every 45 seconds or so for 46 hours. It is the sound coming from the small pump that forces chemo into an IV line that feeds into my husband’s port just below his left shoulder. Sam has to wear a fashionable fanny pack/belly bag to hold the pump when he is up and about, and it sits on the bedside table in the night as he sleeps. That “whhhh-chk” makes me think of Psalm 121:3: “God won’t let your foot slip. Your protector won’t fall asleep on the job.”

I put some lotion on my hands last night just before I got into bed. Sam was downstairs turning off lights and locking doors, and when he walked into the room, he immediately began retching. It was me. My lotion smell caused him to become sick. I am grateful that “this too, shall pass,” grateful that it wasn’t ME – just my lotion, grateful that he made it to the bathroom sink, grateful that I don’t have to live in a doghouse during chemo season – just my lotion.

Nothing sensual about it. Lots of love in the air, though. Love and cleansing wipes. We could own stock in cleansing wipes.

I am grateful for neighbors who cleaned our driveway last weekend while we were gone when the snow fell heavy, and for that same neighbor who helped Sam cut down some trees the previous week.

I am grateful that my husband has the energy to do this:

I am grateful we have a fireplace for all of this wood that is stacked on both sides of the kitchen porch.

Today, there was something calming and peaceful about a silent home with the background sound of winter temporarily melting outside, knowing the storm is coming… and I am safe.