What the Fuss (1)

“No fuss!” I ordered my boys, knowing how people grandly celebrate an 80th birthday.   

They fussed anyway. My thought balloon, Don’t kids listen to their moms anymore? 

My other thought balloon replied, They are not kids anymore. Allow them to fuss over you for a change.

Because my birthday fell on a Sunday, I insisted, “I will spend for my own simple thanksgiving day. I will have a dirty-ice-cream cart for the kids. And I will serve lunch, on me, to those who stay for Sunday School.”

They said nothing. 

And so on my birthday, I had the dirty-ice-cream cart, which the kids (and non-kids) enjoyed, going back and forth umpteenth times for extra servings. 

The basic lunch was prepared by a faith sister, Aegan, whose kaldereta JR loves. 

Then the fussing began. Nikki, a niece from a dear friend’s womb, surprised me with an exquisite birthday cake, which invited raucous singing and, “Blow, blow, blow!” 

I requested son #3 to refrain everyone from delivering oral tributes (a tradition in grand parties), and just to give me a few minutes to speak with my heart: how Tony and I had always preferred living simply, nothing grandiose, opting to stay under the radar—pausing in silence to thank the Lord for blessing us with a day such as this. Pastor Marvin, our guest preacher, led the prayer of thanksgiving. 

I thought that would be it . . . (to be continued) 

Note self: 

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV)