Thank you

I woke up this morning in so much pain from my kidneys that I was nauseous and had to concentrate on breathing so I didn't cry. I'm not telling you this so you will feel bad for me. In fact it will be really annoying if you do. I'm just trying to set the mood.

In the midst of trying to decide if taking vicodin would help or just make me vomit, Andy left for work. And while Max was yelling that he needs food "right this second" and Carter crying because he pulled the waffle iron out of the cupboard and onto his head, I wondered how I could possibly get through this day.

And that's when it happened. Just like it does time and time again.

Someone showed up at my door. Someone to take my kids or bring me food or just check up on me.

No one has asked them to do this. I'm not giving them anything and they definitely don't owe me. What is with these people? They are not all a bunch of crazy Mormons either. Friends from school and work, and even Jackson's kindergarten teachers. People that claim they just had an extra dish of homemade manicotti lying around.

In the weeks since my surgery I have been humbled again and again by the love of those around me. By the love of my Heavenly Father. I'm not even good at asking Him for help. But somebody is obviously doing it and it must be you. Thank you for your prayers. I promise they are working.