Today is my birthday and a work day... but I was happy to go to work, because people at L'Arche can be counted on to celebrate any and every occasion. When I arrived, one of my favourite assistants had left a beautiful Northern Lights postcard on my desk. She appeared a little later to give me a hug. And Thomas overheard. "Your birthday?! Happy Birthday!" he said, and gave me a hug. A little while later, he gave me another hug when I reminded him of my birthday. The next time I saw him, I said, "It's my birthday, Thomas!" and he said, "I hugged you this morning." No fooling him!
I've been missing so many L'Arche events and activities because of my dizziness lately that I've been feeling a bit like an outsider. But today, I realized that even though I'm not there as much as I'd like, I'm still part of the family. I'm not sure how they managed, but the L'Arche community pulled a birthday cake out of thin air before I had to catch my bus home... and twenty people with and without disabilities sang for me and gave me a card. We all got a piece of cake, and I haven't stopped smiling since because of all the hugs from my L'Arche family. Sandy just wordlessly came and put her head against my shoulder.
Any excuse to party is a good one! My birthday included. Happy Birthday to me!
Simple Moodlings \'sim-pѳl 'mϋd-ѳl-ings\ n: 1. modest meanderings of the mind about living simply and with less ecological impact; 2. "long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering" (Brenda Ueland) of the written kind; 3. spiritual odds and ends inspired by life, scripture, and the thoughts of others
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
Coming of age
My eldest daughter is an adult today, according to provincial definition. Eighteen is old enough to vote, to drink, to buy lottery tickets, and to get a tattoo. In and of themselves, none of those activities are signs of any sort of maturity. As her mother, though I know that she still has some growing up to do, I'm pleased to say that in her race to adulthood, she's turned out to be pretty level-headed. And what more can anyone ask for their child?
What really floors me is that I'm the parent of an adult. My little sweetheart is now a big sweetheart. Where did those eighteen years go?
Chances are, I won't have the opportunity to sing our evening blessing over her tonight, as she and some friends are heading to a pub on Whyte Ave. But I mean the words of that blessing as strongly as ever, perhaps more strongly as she embarks into the unknowns of being an adult:
What really floors me is that I'm the parent of an adult. My little sweetheart is now a big sweetheart. Where did those eighteen years go?
Chances are, I won't have the opportunity to sing our evening blessing over her tonight, as she and some friends are heading to a pub on Whyte Ave. But I mean the words of that blessing as strongly as ever, perhaps more strongly as she embarks into the unknowns of being an adult:
May the Lord bless you and watch over you,
May the Lord make his/her face shine upon you and be gracious to you,
May the Lord look kindly on you, and give you peace.
Shalom, shalom, shalom,
shalom, shalom, shalom.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Laughing at myself
I haven't laughed so hard in a long, long time. And I've honestly never laughed so hard at my own stupidity. Here's the story...
My mom is having a milestone birthday next week, and she's such a fantastic person that my sisters and I just couldn't imagine it going unmarked. So we made a simple little plan, but we didn't say anything about the plan to Mom because she hates being fussed over. And somehow, in our minds, it became a... shhhhhh... SURPRISE. But how could anything we do surprise her, when she knows we love her and want to do something special for her?
My folks and sisters have been away for the last little while, but last night we connected via Skype. It was great to spend time with them all, as we haven't been together since July 15th, and we're used to being together a lot. They were watching our team, the Saskatchewan Roughriders, who unfortunately lost to Calgary, and we were kind of hanging out via Skype. I could see my mom and sisters on my screen, sitting on a motel bed, them giving me game updates, we girls shooting the breeze about various things and Dad probably wishing we'd be quiet so he could hear the game better.
Unfortunately, we got to talking about mosquitoes.
My friend Charleen is in a wheelchair and unable to defend herself from the nasty little critters who are outdoing themselves in regard to nastiness this year (we're all pretty indefensible, they're so persistent!). She's also Mom's friend, and I really want her to be able to join us to celebrate Mom, so all week I've been saying to my daughters, "we have to pray for hot sunny weather to kill off the mosquitoes so Charleen can come to the party."
The problem is that last night, it came out before I could think: "We have to pray for hot sunny weather to kill off the mosquitoes so Charleen can come to the par--"
I stopped, the word unfinished, my mouth hanging open, my brain wildly searching for a way out, but there was none, so I turned to the side and fell off my chair onto the kitchen floor, convulsing with laughter. I BLEW IT! I could hear my sisters just killing themselves. "AHHH HAHAHAHA...." "The look on your face was priceless!" While my dad, on the other side of the room (unable to see the Skype screen) was saying, "What's going on? What happened?!" "Maria BLEW IT! She BLEW IT! Mom knows about the PAR--!"
I was crying, I was laughing so hard. I'm almost at that state again as I type this. We must have laughed for a good ten minutes while my dad muttered things like, "I was hoping you guys would get off of Skype before somebody let the cat out of the bag!" Mom, God bless her, said, "I guess we'd better keep praying for hot sunny weather," which made us all laugh for another five minutes.
So, the moral of the story? Belly laughing, even at yourself, is good for body and soul. AND it's pretty much impossible to surprise the people you love with a big mouth like mine, but does that really matter? I suspect that a high percentage of surprisees end up pretending that they're surprised by their surprisers. Of course, it's the thought that counts -- and Mom still has no real idea of what we've planned for her! We love you, Mom!
My mom is having a milestone birthday next week, and she's such a fantastic person that my sisters and I just couldn't imagine it going unmarked. So we made a simple little plan, but we didn't say anything about the plan to Mom because she hates being fussed over. And somehow, in our minds, it became a... shhhhhh... SURPRISE. But how could anything we do surprise her, when she knows we love her and want to do something special for her?
My folks and sisters have been away for the last little while, but last night we connected via Skype. It was great to spend time with them all, as we haven't been together since July 15th, and we're used to being together a lot. They were watching our team, the Saskatchewan Roughriders, who unfortunately lost to Calgary, and we were kind of hanging out via Skype. I could see my mom and sisters on my screen, sitting on a motel bed, them giving me game updates, we girls shooting the breeze about various things and Dad probably wishing we'd be quiet so he could hear the game better.
Unfortunately, we got to talking about mosquitoes.
My friend Charleen is in a wheelchair and unable to defend herself from the nasty little critters who are outdoing themselves in regard to nastiness this year (we're all pretty indefensible, they're so persistent!). She's also Mom's friend, and I really want her to be able to join us to celebrate Mom, so all week I've been saying to my daughters, "we have to pray for hot sunny weather to kill off the mosquitoes so Charleen can come to the party."
The problem is that last night, it came out before I could think: "We have to pray for hot sunny weather to kill off the mosquitoes so Charleen can come to the par--"
I stopped, the word unfinished, my mouth hanging open, my brain wildly searching for a way out, but there was none, so I turned to the side and fell off my chair onto the kitchen floor, convulsing with laughter. I BLEW IT! I could hear my sisters just killing themselves. "AHHH HAHAHAHA...." "The look on your face was priceless!" While my dad, on the other side of the room (unable to see the Skype screen) was saying, "What's going on? What happened?!" "Maria BLEW IT! She BLEW IT! Mom knows about the PAR--!"
I was crying, I was laughing so hard. I'm almost at that state again as I type this. We must have laughed for a good ten minutes while my dad muttered things like, "I was hoping you guys would get off of Skype before somebody let the cat out of the bag!" Mom, God bless her, said, "I guess we'd better keep praying for hot sunny weather," which made us all laugh for another five minutes.
So, the moral of the story? Belly laughing, even at yourself, is good for body and soul. AND it's pretty much impossible to surprise the people you love with a big mouth like mine, but does that really matter? I suspect that a high percentage of surprisees end up pretending that they're surprised by their surprisers. Of course, it's the thought that counts -- and Mom still has no real idea of what we've planned for her! We love you, Mom!
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