Angels at Ryan's

I will confess that I do not write in a journal. Yet, I have felt a strong desire to write down or blog about something that happened to me on Labor Day, the day I went to D.C. with Uncle Gary. I know, it's been a month. Sue me!

Uncle Gary wanted to take us out to eat after our lovely time at the American History museum. I was pressed for time because I had signed up to feed an elderly couple and their family that night. We probably could have made dinner had the following not transpired:

• my "experienced" navigator (Uncle Gary) got us turned around and we drove around and around and around D.C.
• 
  

• I hesitated in a turn lane and ended up pulling out in front of a motorcycle cop and pissed him off (I totally had enough time and space! He was just mad at my audacity!)
• I had to sweet talk said cop, win him over, and enlist his immense knowledge of the area to direct us where we needed to go.

Needless to say by the time I dropped Uncle Gary off, I had to rush home to heat up the casserole I had made the day before. I then took it over to the family's house and was just too spent/exhausted to go home and make my own dinner. The kids were hungry and tired and so was I but I did NOT want McDonald's. It was Monday and I thought I would go to Ryan's so everyone could get their heart's desire and I hoped that the kid's could eat free.:) FHE anyone?

What happened next is still deeply personal and so special to me. I walked into Ryan's with my crew. It was packed. I was going to turn left b/c I can ---eat your heart out Zoolander------but felt I should go right. I found a table and sat my crew down. There was a elderly couple in the table next to me who asked me if they could watch my kids while I went to get their plates. Immediately, my Wonderwoman kicks in and I say I am fine but thank you so much for offering (but I don't know you from Adam and this is D.C. and there are crazies everywhere and these are my babies! etc etc)
Then it dawned on me: How in the h*ll am I going to carry the baby, hold onto my lunatic 2 almost 3 year old, make their plates, and carry them to the table??? No sooner had this terrifying thought entered my mind when a sweet couple came from around the wall where they had been enjoying their dinner and asked me if my husband was deployed and could they help. I told them he was TDY for 6 weeks. They said they could spot a military wife anywhere and wanted to lend a hand since they too had served 23 years in the military. Well, I nearly lost it right there! I mean, really? Angels? in Ryan's?!? 2 sets of angels??? The wife sat with my 2 little ones while I took the 2 oldest to fix their plates and got food for the little ones. She then sat with all of them and fed Elijah while I fixed my own plate! After I returned, she left. While I was gone though the 2 tables beside me had black families that had been watching all this transpire and had gotten to know my kids too. They were making eyes with Eli, talking to Zech and Gabe, and playing games with Ammon. All throughout our dinner, whenever I needed anything, there was another person sent by God ready to serve me and my family.

Why was this so important to me? Because the depression bug had bit my butt big time and I was struggling with my faith worse than I have ever done in my life. I wondered if God cared. I mean, I knew he loved me but did he care what decisions I made as long as they were good ones? Did he care that I was busting my butt trying to hold my little world together?

This day, I received a HUGE answer to those questions. Not only did God care about me. He cared enough to send other people to care about me. Little tidbit: my love language is "acts of service". There was NO clearer way God could have sent his message to me that He loves me and cares for me than through these angels who chose to Serve me and God that night at Ryan's.

So there you have it. For all posterity and my little blog followers who do not read or post comments :) This is my journal entry, my testimony.