Warm Fuzzies

Tomorrow's another day.  So many fun things to think about: It's the day I was born. My daughter takes on a new job. One of my granddaughters shares my birthday (she'll be five). I'm going to a sketchy house showing in the morning where I will be armed with my new gun and Flashbang holster. My husband is a few weeks into a new career. It's storming outside so all our new plants are getting watered. Went to a movie with my daughter last night that scared the fool out of us (The Quiet Place), so I'm imagining what the Apocalypse might be like. I'm working very quietly, so as not to alert anything to my presence. And then I'm thinking about the day...

My kids (except the North Georgia ones) surprised me yesterday by showing up to the hamburger joint we went to for lunch after church. There were flowers, balloons, cake, gifts, lots of grandkids and joy. I'm still feeling the warmth of their love and thoughtfulness. The ever-widening circle of life is a mystery to me. When it came Ken and I's time to start a family, I entered the arena with fear and trepidation. How could we do half as good a job as our parents? I'm nothing like my Mama -- how am I going to do this? It took me many years to understand that God didn't make my Mama for my kids, He made me for them. Even with all my flaws. I guess they had to learn a lot about grace, since they'd be asking for extra with me around. 

Today didn't go at all like I planned. An appointment got cancelled, another popped up, then I had to make tracks concerning a real estate concern. After all that, I ended up going to the Georgia Aquarium with one of my sons and his family. Five-year-old Annabelle and I got in free since it was both our birthdays. It was a crazy menagerie, with six-month-old twins in tow. Annabelle and I lounged at the big tank for an hour while her Mama fed the babies, with A shuttling covert messages from the fish to me. One of them, a giant guitarfish, kept trying to kiss her through the glass. She was horrified but laughing. We went to the other side of the planet to the American Girl doll shop, then got blazingly spicy Chinese for dinner. By the time we drove for what seemed hours back to their house, the babies were hollering and tuckered out. And so was Yaya. We ran around getting everyone ready for bed and I turned to go home, when my son brought out beverages and cigars for a porch talk. Even though it was later than I wanted to admit, and I had double-work for tomorrow, how could I resist? We talked and rambled nostalgic for a spell out in the misty, chilly night. The call of duty was put on pause, the tyranny of the urgent squelched for a bit. The most precious of times always seem to come unexpectedly, unplanned and unbidden. You can't manufacture those. But it's those moments that are the richest, the marrow of life. I love God for that.