It happened again. I am not sure why it still jars me after all these years. I was feeling discouraged about the marriage conference, as I do approximately 493 times in the weeks before it happens. Then my son called. 

"We are coming!" 

From California? As in jet lag? Cross country time warp? Taking off work? For one weekend? Triple digit price tag? 

The passage from the 23rd psalm comes close to describing it.

"My cups runs over."

Not a few drips on the table kind of "runs over". More like Victoria Falls in the wet season.

Even if four presenters cancel, the food is cold, the nature show forgets to show up, the jewelry lab is closed, the musician gets the flu, and a pending snowstorm looms on my weather app, so far the conference has always been a blessing. Yet God doesn't rely completely on my iron clad memory. He sends a sign.