Before I could recover from the bliss of a magical surprise, I watched in shock and awe how people in my circuit moved somewhat eerily that morning.
Tony wouldn’t join me for breakfast, our daily ritual. Son #3 woke up early and hurriedly walked to the gate a few times. Mother Teresa was busy arranging everything neatly in the living room and flowers in vases at the terrace.
Then as I sipped my coffee, I heard the doorbell ring and son #3’s voice, “What took you so long? She’s already having breakfast.”
A throng of people carrying trays and trays of breakfast food came in noisily, and shouting, “Happy birthday!”
I was in my house dress and slippers, with my hair uncombed. Here they all were and I had no chance to powder my nose. A most beautiful cake with my age on it was the centerpiece, a reminder of the years with which the Lord blessed me.
Grace, grace eveywhere! They sang a hymn after which they prayed for me.
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| From the terrace to the garden for a photo op |
Again, I am stunned. The fullness of joy cannot be defined. The photos speak, but they leave all those in my heart unheard.
Who am I to deserve this? “...what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” Psalm 8:4 (ESV)
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