Lots of people are coming to Footlights this weekend.



My oldest son from California.

My oldest daughter from Burleson.

My youngest son from Hutchins.

My brother and his sons from London.

Hubs and I have spent months preparing:

finishing patios, mowing grass, hanging lights, moving beds, buying a caravan,



keeping the barn tidy, clearing out the Pavillion, organizing the garage, deep cleaning the house and drawing up shopping lists so that all my cupboards and fridges are well stocked.

In a nutshell, getting our house  and land in order to welcome our guests, our family members, our loved ones.

In all of this preparation our car is in the shop for the third time. I am a Soccer Mum again driving around in my bright red mini van.

I am cast back to the days when we toted children in our 7 seater.  Days I bid farewell to years ago.

Perhaps a 7 seater will be useful for picking up our house guests at the airport.  Perhaps there is a silver lining in the inconvenience.

The event everyone is coming in for, my youngest daughter and her Hubs’ reception for out of town family, has been in the works for months (almost a year to be honest) and I am glad we are finally just days away.

However, I awaken in the mornings dreading the week-end…


Airplane flights across ocean and desert.

All our children under the same roof, or at least on the same property, together.

My brother and nephews visiting Footlights for the first time.

The additional driving on freeways that are fast and dangerous.

72 short hours of family reunion…then the goodbyes.

As the weekend lurches towards me the anxieties knot together in my stomach ruining the deliciousness of anticipation.

Nothing I can do will slow its approach.

Two days ago I looked the fear monster square in the eyes and asked Hubs to pray for me.

“St. Michael the Archangel, defend Vivienne in battle. Be her defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. 
May God rebuke him, I humbly pray, 
and do thou, 
O Prince of the heavenly hosts, 
by the power of God, 
thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, 
who prowl about the world 
seeking the ruin of her soul.”

“Amen.” we both said.

And the next morning as I lay in bed slowly waking up, fear raced with our cats outside to the porch and slipped through the screen to join the breeze whistling high in the branches of my favorite bois d’arc.  It rustled the live oaks as it was tossed from bough to bough in the grove,


The Grove

and disappeared, torn and shredded, into the brisk, clean air.

In its place settled the welcome and familiar flutter of butterflies.

I smiled.

I was excited and ready to enjoy the weekend.

Prayer is powerful.

Intercessory prayer by Hubs is healing.

Thank you my love.

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2017-10-19 16:32:57 Reply

Thank you! I want to be that person for you! I do try!

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