238/365

We woke up in an almost embarrassingly dry place while the storm continued to rage only a couple of hours to the north. We watched the scenes of destruction on TV and waited for word from family members in vulnerable places. And we watched. And we waited. We received text from other family members wanting news, and we had virtually none to share. 

Finally, realizing that watching was doing nothing, I did something. I made breakfast. Even if I can do nothing to change the weather, I can feed the people with me. I beat eggs into white peaks. I measured and remeasured and measured the flour again, distractedly losing track of how many cups I dumped into the bowl. We watched the batter ooze from the sides of the waffle irons (yes, our family is a two-iron family), and waited on the tell-tale beep of the ready alarm. I stacked waffles, steaming, toasted golden brown.

And then, I prayed. I think sometimes I have been tempted to think it's just prayer, the lesser action to really doing something. Yet, aren't we encouraged, even commanded to do just that? "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God," writes Paul in Philippians 4:6. This morning brought so much to be thankful and yet, so much to plea. It is good to do something.