Maximillian Amadeus Banzai (banzai) wrote,
Maximillian Amadeus Banzai
banzai

  • Mood:

Cake?

Thus says the Lord:
"Stand by the roads, and look,
   and ask for the ancient paths,
where the good way is; and walk in it,
   and find rest for your souls."

—Jeremiah 6:16


This is my meditation verse for the next year.

Took yesterday off in light of my birthday and the busyness of the weeks to come. It was astonishingly beautiful—sunny and 60s. Walked a couple of blocks from my home to the banks of Lake Union for lunch, where ducks and geese were my dining companions. Enjoyed the sight and scent of a cherry blossom tree in bloom on my walk back, filled with the traffic of happy little bees.

I share a birthday with Steve Jobs and Edward James Olmos, as well as my friends Micah and thinhorizon. That's company I'm honored to keep.

This morning is much closer to the expected Seattle of February—a little cooler and a lot more grey. I downsized my beard to a goatee/mustache combo (not technically a Van Dyke because of the lack of upturned mustache and pointy beard). I missed parts of my face. It's a good morning for me to enjoy coffee at Irwin's, so that's exactly what I'm doing.

My niece Amy has been sick, so much so that she's had to be in the hospital for a couple of days. Somehow that seems more sad at her age (not yet two), and the fact that she was too sick to her stomach to be able to enjoy her big brother's fourth birthday party is absolutely heartwrenching—my sister told me she kept saying "Cake?" over and over, not understanding the connection between her illness and the fact that she couldn't have any. Had I been there, I surely would have cried.

That's not just sentimentality. What punches me in the gut, besides the fact that it's my dear sweet little niece for whom I'd do anything, is that life is like this. How often do I come to my heavenly Father crying, "Cake? Cake? Cake?," never understanding that He's keeping me from what seems to be a wonderful party because, in truth, it will make me sick? My sister couldn't make Amy understand, and He often can't make me understand. My little niece's only hope is to trust her mother, that she would deny her no good thing and rejoices over her with singing, even when all she can understand is that she's sick and missing the party. My only hope is to likewise trust my Father.
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