Celebrating my 34th birthday this weekend was everything I would hope that it would be. My parents came to spend the weekend at our new house - so we ate way too much, caught up about all the people we know, and hung up a swing that my Great Uncle George made for my siblings and I in the 1970s. We picked up a new grill, and ate burgers and dogs on saturday night. We took some walks, and ate most of the items listed on the menu at Well Bred Bakery. The weather was beautiful, and Noah and Avery were in heaven.Jessica was not feeling well, but managed to dust herself off long enough to make me feel like all she had to do was celebrate my birthday. She was a trooper, for sure - surprising me with tickets to the Hopscotch Music Festival (Yes, Superchunk will
be there - as will the Love Language) in September, two new books to devoure (How can anyone go wrong with Sarah Vowell's Unfamiliar Fishes and Frederick Buechner's Listening to Your Life?), and a new pair of TOMS shoes.So in the end - my weekend was no different than most days, as I went to bed feeling like the luckiest person in the world. I fell asleep in a house that is my sanctuary, reading Sarah Vowell, with the knowledge that I love much, and that I feel loved.
Much of what I am feeling these days is best summed up by what I read last night in Buechner:
"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way into the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace. "
My cup runneth over.
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