Enjoying the day

Another birthday but I do not worry about the passing of the years. Today, I do not want to reflect on what have been, the highs and lows, the friendships gained and lost, past adventures or escapades enjoyed or endured.

 I want to concentrate on this day, this time.  I want to savor the life I have now. This morning I waited for my alarm so I had time to read a whole chapter in Hosea. I absorbed the message that we should learn from the mistakes of others: but realize that millennia ago, the Israelites did not learn and after all this time, human beings have not still not mastered the art of learning from history. It seems that each generation asserts its right to recreate its own mistakes.

This somber reading ended in a quick prayer of thankfulness to God for His blessings and supplication for the sick or bone weary.

Then I grudgingly started my exercise routine because it soothes my joints. As the melodious voice of the handsome young man coaxed me into squatting and stretching, I was grateful to be able to keep up. I was rewarded with  the exhilaration of the cool down exercises that lasted all of today.

To have your day sandwiched by the Birthday chorus because people cared deeply enough to remember makes me really grateful, My face book friends on both sides of the pond brought me real joy because aging is a glorious process when celebrated.

To be thankful each moment because I am   loved and cherished creates a celebration . God has been good indeed.

Comforting rituals

The choir in their grey and red robes had filed in. A booming voice commanded us to rise. As we stood, a procession in solemn single file started the funeral service to the intonation of  “in my father’s house are many mansions”. The reading continued until all were seated in their assigned places. Funerals do leave us helpless, not knowing how to comfort and hurting if we are the ones bereft. The tears of the bereaved as the coffin was closed were a vivid reminder of why we were there.

Yet as the service progressed, I found comfort in the familiarity of a church service. The beautiful music soared above our grief as our feet tapped to the rhythm in spontaneous joy.

Today as I hear the bad news of my cousin’s health, fear grabbed my heart. A dark cloud of dread descended. I prayed for her and I gave thanks for myself. I am enjoying the luxury of spending a day in bed so that my blood pressure, which has been uncharacteristically high, would return to normal. If it doesn’t, I guess, my medication would be changed. How trivial this is in the light of someone’s fading life?  How meaningless my life could be in the context of the final stopwatch.

Of course, I’ve tried to be authentic but I’ve been distracted like Martha by too many things. I’ve allowed myself to be dazzled by the glare of people’s faults and failures, their superficialities and superciliousness.  Yet, the Christ in me longs to share His compassion, His indulgence, and His benevolence. We are all children of God made in His image.  I forget the extent of God’s grace to me that brought me thus far and the older folk who helped along the way.  So I pray to always remember as I try to live with meaning each day. Living with meaning involves taking meaning from simple rituals and allowing myself to believe that whatever happens, I can have joy.

 The choir in their grey and red robes had filed in. A booming voice commanded us to rise. As we stood, a procession in solemn single file started the funeral service to the intonation of  “in my father’s house are many mansions”. The reading continued until all were seated in their assigned places. Funerals do leave us helpless, not knowing how to comfort and hurting if we are the ones bereft. The tears of the bereaved as the coffin was closed were a vivid reminder of why we were there.

Yet as the service progressed, I found comfort in the familiarity of a church service. The beautiful music soared above our grief as our feet tapped to the rhythm in spontaneous joy.

Today as I hear the bad news of my cousin’s health, fear grabbed my heart. A dark cloud of dread descended. I prayed for her and I gave thanks for myself. I am enjoying the luxury of spending a day in bed so that my blood pressure, which has been uncharacteristically high, would return to normal. If it doesn’t, I guess, my medication would be changed. How trivial this is in the light of someone’s fading life?  How meaningless my life could be in the context of the final stopwatch.

Of course, I’ve tried to be authentic but I’ve been distracted like Martha by too many things. I’ve allowed myself to be dazzled by the glare of people’s faults and failures, their superficialities and superciliousness.  Yet, the Christ in me longs to share His compassion, His indulgence, and His benevolence. We are all children of God made in His image.  I forget the extent of God’s grace to me that brought me thus far and the older folk who helped along the way.  So I pray to always remember as I try to live with meaning each day. Living with meaning involves taking meaning from simple rituals and allowing myself to believe that whatever happens, I can have joy.