As quickly as it began, another year of An Indian Trail Christmas has reached its close. All that's left now is the wrap party on Wednesday night, which will be a good time, as always. I don't know the final number, but there was something close to 500 professions of faith over the course of the weekend. I am so grateful that my voice held out and I managed to hit the notes that I needed to. There was lots of knitting, discussions about poop, trying to stay awake when the lights went out, laughing, dancing, singing, all of it. We had a good time.
Another topic, which I didn't write about last week because I wasn't sure if my mom remembered and didn't want to upset her. December 7th was the anniversary of Puss's death. I still miss her just as much today as I did on that date. It's this dull ache, and I'm torn between wishing that time would pass so it would hurt less and being afraid that I'll forget her if it doesn't hurt at all. I don't know. I'm very thankful that we have Shelli in our lives, and honestly, I really don't care that people may think that I'm crazy to be so devoted to my kitty. I think that, just as God made evangelists that have a very specific way in which they can serve Him (although I tend to disagree with their methods), He also made people like me who are tender-hearted toward His Creation, which has no voice. We are that voice.
I have the day off today, and I'm sooooo glad for it. It's been a long weekend, and I'm glad to have a day of respite.