Of Daffodils and Doughnuts Along the Red Sea

Like a leaf disappearing in a wind storm, days pass without significance. At one time special days rose with a new sun each year, causing a flurry of activity—a wind storm—of preparations, celebrations, and acknowledgements.

A birthday, a milestone, a remembrance, an anniversary… These occasions of cherished celebrations etched into the pillars of my life. Folks around me shared a deep appreciation of these particular days because they were integral to the celebration. The uncomfortable stillness after the storm passes produces a strange, still unfamiliar reading on my emotional barometer as I pass through a day without a mention of those no longer here.

When my mother died all her days blew away with her departure. The birthday our entire family once colluded to acknowledge has passed unnoticed. The marking of the years beyond completion of her education used to be commemorated by her colleagues and I looked forward to hearing the news obtained from her cronies. Many of those individuals have passed away as well and the leaves of their lives have settled off in a foggy, unknown but very real destination.

On my parent’s anniversary, especially in the late years of life, I made the cake, bought the flowers, sent cards and invitations, and listened to the re-telling of the old, old stories. How they were so young and poor they couldn’t afford a honeymoon thus visiting a local doughnut shop for coffee and a shared treat before returning to their jobs. How they worked for years refurbishing the house my father was born in. Or how many times they threatened to divorce each other but finished out sixty five years of marriage, a decreasing accomplishment in modern society.

When the Lord established the feasts of Israel, He instructed to continue celebrating through every successive generation. New Hebrew children must never forget the bricks and captivity, the grand deliverance before exodus, or the departure through a great sea as their ancestors crossed into a wilderness that led into their promised land.

My family’s stories can’t compare to Israel’sID-100135268 but I can learn from their tradition. To pause from the windstorms of life and remember important events, stilling the rushing tempests momentarily, provide focus, appreciation, and comfort to me.

On this wedding anniversary of my parent’s marriage sixty six years ago, I rest and honor the memories. Doughnuts are no longer on my menu so I’ll select a few emerging buds of daffodils and reflect.

Like the Hebrew children I celebrate, remember, and thank a great God who goes before me and leads to a promised land where His family will once again gather. The flowers sit on a windowsill seen by no one but me, yet testify to a very real and sure destination. I am reminded that my leaf will soon disappear but today enjoy the sun, the flowers, and the God who created all.

photo credit: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/Flowers_g74-Daffodils_In_Spring_p135268.html