Dear Lord,
Please let the tropical storm predicted to hit coastal Jersey head out to sea.
You see, I have a birthday party scheduled for my 9 year old daughter and 20 of her closest friends at a local kids' dance club. The party starts at 5 pm, when the wind gusts should be hitting about 50 mph.
I've ordered the cake, stuffed the goody bags, my van is loaded with Hannah Montana plates and napkins, and my sweet little daughter is soooo excited. (But I guess you already know all that)
I don't ask for much. (Okay, maybe I do.) But this time, I'm pleading.
Cut me a break with this one, and I owe you one. BIG TIME!
Amen.
Update: 4:46 PM EST: I figured God might have alot on his plate, so I took matters into my own hands and rescheduled the party for Friday the 12th.
Now all I have to do is break the news to my daughter and call 20 girls! Yay me!