My dearest Em–HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!
Today is Palm Sunday–just as it was 22 years ago. The whole ‘triumphal entry’ theme resonates with me afresh in Palm Sunday sermons.
Kusel, Germany, 1991. Desert Storm had left the military hospitals gutted in preparation for wounded, so I, along with everyone else in our Lamaze class, prepared to deliver in a German hospital. My OB/GYN hailed from Greece, but studied in the US. The OB who actually delivered you came from France. Your half-Japanese dad dutifully and sensitively held my hand. Diversity in action, it felt apropos for our ‘melting pot’ family. I’ve heard it said (from mostly men) that women forget the pain of childbirth when the doctor or nurse puts their beautiful baby, all snuggled and clean in a blanket, into their arms. *sigh* How magical childbirth is in their world…. Reality check: Those people lie…. However, with the pain comes great joy.
I hope I never forget the beautiful European years of raising you to toddlerhood. Going to the park down the street, strolling to the Greek restaurant past the cows, gasping with awe as the shepherd helped birth his sheep in the springtime. The fields of saffron flowers blooming gave me such joy. Oh, I wouldn’t call it idyllic (I’m not that naive). I also remember dad almost dying when I was 9 months pregnant with Jason, and our little church community completely falling apart and relationships destroyed. But I remember the pace of life. I remember quietness and peace. I remember church bells echoing through the villages. I remember old people oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over you in your stroller and giving you candy while we shopped, traveled and ate in the German cities and towns. And I remember letting you eat the candy that I would throw away if a stranger in America gave it to you. I remember feeding the ducks in the village next to ours–and you stuffing the bread in your mouth while throwing some to the ducks. A different culture. A different life.
I loved the beginning of our family and the treasury of those memories. I’ve loved raising you to adulthood, and although there have been many bumpy years as we grew and learned together, pride fills my heart as I see you pursuing your passions and learning to fly. I still see that little girl in Germany who brought such joy and wonder to life. I see her when your excitement and effervescence lights up the faces of the girls you mentor. I see her when life is hard and tears fill your eyes at injustices. I see her when you hope for a better tomorrow. I see her when you curl up in a blanket and watch a Disney movie. I see her when you courageously face the critics, once again, and fight for righteousness. I see her when you see chocolate milk in the refrigerator and all is right with the world. I see her when Jesus shines through you and gives grace to a soul who believes itself undeserving. I see her when you worship God–with music and the sacrifice of your life.
You are my beloved child, in whom I am well-pleased.