.... well, actually, it is my birthday today. I'm 39 -- oh all right. I'm 52.
My husband took me out to breakfast this morning. I had Swedish Pancakes with Lingonberries (one of my favorite breakfasts that I don't make). I got a beautiful new bracelet and necklace, and a funny card.
Yesterday a member of the congregation came by with a small potted flower. Someone else sent a card with a gift certificate for a cup of coffee. I also got the book The Daily Coyote, which, for some inexplicable reason, I enjoy reading more than I'm enjoying The Shack. (And I am not meaning this as a slam on The Shack; I'm just not as drawn to it as I thought I would be.)
I went to a meeting and conversation this afternoon with john powell. It's hard to explain, except that we are trying to enter into deep relationships with one another across racial and economic lines. It's pretty hard, as it entails being honest with ourselves and one another. As I recall, the incarnation cost Jesus some, too.
Right now I'm taking a break from dishes, laundry, and other last minute clean-ups. Pretty soon we will be going to the visitation for my father-in-law.