A Party of Seven

During the Christmas season, any meet-up with friends, no matter how small, is called a party.  

An invite for lunch was extended by the Publications Dept of my main book publisher. Before 2025, I would have immediately declined. 

The pandemic took a toll on Tony’s heart (only physically; he remained mentally astute till the end). I understood what his cardiologist did not overtly say: his condition was fragile. Any infection could have an adverse effect on his health. I parked myself at home.  

Now that I only have me, I worry no more about going out and mingle with crowds. 

“Yes, Id love to join you for lunch!” 

It was a party of seven: four host officers and three invitees—authors, whose long friendship dates back to Noah's time. 

The Magnificent Seven, I recalled one of my childhood fave adventure movies, circa 1960. 

But when I mentioned it, nobody reacted. Of course they wouldn’t, I was the only one born in ancient days. 

The place was Opus Mall, touted as the newest upscale shopping-and-eating destination. With aged eyes now jaded (been there, done that), I focus on conversations, friendship, relationships. strong connections, especially with kindred souls whose sense of purpose and strong suits are spent serving the Lord and spreading the Gospel. 

We had lunch, we had photo ops, and we had coffee in another joint. In all, we had a magnificent day of grace, agreeing on what Christian literature should be.