The last place you wanna be on your birthday is in a dental chair, looking up at the ceiling.
But God has a way of showing up to celebrate your birthday when you least expect it.
Even while in a dental chair, counting the holes in the tiled ceiling.
Which in a flash took me back to my church days as a five-year-old snugged against mom during the service. Fidgety, I'd finally comfort myself by laying my head in her lap and staring at the ceiling.
Yes, a similar tiled ceiling with holes I could count.
The memory provoked a warm nostalgic flood to wash over me.
Mama would stroke my brow with a gentle sweep of my bangs to the side.
Just when I'd counted as far as I could go (maybe to twenty or so as a five-year-old), I'd get fidgety again.
Mama would pull out her pretty cloth handkerchief and fashion it into a tiny cradle with baby inside. I can still picture it, though I never learned how to do it.
I wish I had, because it would be a wonderful thing to pass down to my grandchildren from their great grandmother.
Perhaps my sister will know how. I'll ask her when I see her next.
In the meantime, I'll bask in the glow and wonder of God showing up with a warm mother memory to help me feel close to her on my birthday.
Even in the dental chair.
But God has a way of showing up to celebrate your birthday when you least expect it.
Even while in a dental chair, counting the holes in the tiled ceiling.
Which in a flash took me back to my church days as a five-year-old snugged against mom during the service. Fidgety, I'd finally comfort myself by laying my head in her lap and staring at the ceiling.
Yes, a similar tiled ceiling with holes I could count.
The memory provoked a warm nostalgic flood to wash over me.
Mama would stroke my brow with a gentle sweep of my bangs to the side.
Just when I'd counted as far as I could go (maybe to twenty or so as a five-year-old), I'd get fidgety again.
Mama would pull out her pretty cloth handkerchief and fashion it into a tiny cradle with baby inside. I can still picture it, though I never learned how to do it.
I wish I had, because it would be a wonderful thing to pass down to my grandchildren from their great grandmother.
Perhaps my sister will know how. I'll ask her when I see her next.
In the meantime, I'll bask in the glow and wonder of God showing up with a warm mother memory to help me feel close to her on my birthday.
Even in the dental chair.
