A few years ago, my parents gave us a wonderful Christmas gift. It's an electric gate mechanism. Now, when the end of the driveway nears, I don't have to get out of the car to open and close the gate. I joke that it's the only Christmas gift I can open over and over again. And in the rainy Oregon weather, it couldn't be more perfect.
One day recently, though, the fog was mental, not atmospheric. I was fighting a feeling of drabness with an attempt at gratitude—looking for even the most minute examples of God's goodness to lift me out of the gloom. But the grayness pressed close, and I needed comfort.
As a parent, I'm well attuned to those times when my kids just need a hug. And I'm always willing to drop whatever I'm doing and offer one—as long and strong as they need it to be. There's nothing like the palpable reassurance that says, "You're loved and cared for."
