It's Saturday night. I've been to church and have been challenged by the folks from Turkey who shared their stories. (They (Turkish people, in general) have been fighting with their neighbours, the Armenian's, for over 100 years. Plus, their other neighbours, the Syrians, have been showing up, in desperate need of help, by the millions.)
(Twenty people from my church are going to Turkey next week to love on those Syrian refugees.)
(In a few weeks I am going to Vietnam and Cambodia to love on nobody.)
(I think I may have to re-examine my vacation time and my holiday budget in coming years. I'm not comfortable with this level of guilt.)
I'm sitting on the deck at my mom's house.
Earlier, when I first started this post, there was this lovely pink cloud in the sky:
It totally dwarfed the Port Mann Bridge. As do most God-made vs man-made things, I guess.
As I sat here, watching the sky fade to black, the stars start to shine, and the lights over in Coquitlam start to twinkle, I listened to the frogs and crickets sing their night song. The temperature dropped so I put on my new hoodie. (For the 8th year in a row I went shopping for a white one, and for the 8th year in a row couldn't find a white one in my size.) But I just couldn't go another season (my 5th) wearing that periwinkle one.
I bought one as close to white as I could find.
In the daylight, it glows.
Like the '80's.
I should get a perm.
Anyway, I am sitting on the deck, listening to the world around me, snug in my new (the hardest part of the purchase was deciding on the color. I did NOT walk 20 miles to the closest store, I did not sacrifice meals for a week in order to pay for it, I did not risk my safety to be out in public alone, I did not have to denounce my faith for fear for my life) hoodie, eating my chicken and rice and wondering why I get to live this life. This easy, safe, beautiful, blessed life.
On the table in front of me is a card from Danica. It's filled with words. Beautiful, affirming, life-giving words. I know that she is God's gift to Drew, but dang. She is His gift to me too.
It's Mother's Day tomorrow.
I wish Mother's Day had never been born.
Some unknown entity (Hallmark?) (the guy who invented calendars?)(Martha Stewart?) tells my kids they have to do something nice for me. On the second Sunday in May. Because everyone else is going to. And all of the moms all over the western world, (except those in the UK. They did this in March) will be sharing the details in glorious detail on Facebook. And I think I'll just go to the beach.
(I wonder what Mother's Day is like in Turkey? Or Syria? Or refugee camps? I wonder if they have someone on their side of the world telling them to do nice things on the second Sunday in May for the woman who born them? Or is this mostly a first world problem/celebration?)
Ramblings from a grateful gal on a beautiful Saturday night.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Summer weather. In May. So I can do outdoor things. Like sit on the deck as the day ends and the night begins.
2. My church. And it's commitment to global missions.
3. My kids. Who made me a mom. I am a better person because of them.
4. My mom. Who did such a good job raising me.
5. My new orange hoodie. So comfy.
7. Books that are filled with words I've never read before and thoughts about things I've never considered before.
8. People who say I'm sorry.
9. People who say I forgive you.
10. Inspiring songs.
11. Crowder concerts.
12. Cinco de Mayo parties.