Then this happened
It's March 2014. I turn fifty this month. The Beatles, The Stones and the last year of the Baby Boom, 1964.
My mother died last year, I left a job to put on the old familiar coat of freelance and I'm constantly challenged by it. My mom's death, that is.
Everything that was routine is now different, because she's not here. Everything new is different, because she's not here.
In one month, I get married. On our 26th anniversary, we will exchange vows and get that legal document now afforded us. (I now have a month to get this just right). I wish mom were here.
A death, a career move, a marriage, turning fifty, planning another bid for public office, I'm a bit overwhelmed.
I am lost for words lately to describe such a deep flowing river of grace that I find myself afloat.
Here is what I have so far for my promises to her: don't tell her, she wants to be surprised.
"I promise to respect, admire, and appreciate you for who you are, as well as for the person you wish to become."
"I promise to nurture your goals and ambitions; to support you through misfortune and celebrate your triumphs."
"I promise to show you, every day, that I know exactly how lucky I am to have you in my life."
The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law
One thing is clear, the next half of my life is full of hope. I am, for this, very very grateful.