Sunny Side Up: It rained on our parade, but it was marvellous
By Kathleen Gibson
“How will you celebrate your 50th anniversary,” daughter Amanda asked, in early summer. A half century of God’s goodness and mercy chasing after us. But I had no idea.
“You have to do something,” she said. “Fifty years is pretty special.” She was right, especially considering the multitude of crises that could have shortened that.
She outlined a good plan. Bottom of her and our son-in-law’s large property, A big tent, full meal. Kendall smoking a huge hunk of meat. Cold drinks. A very large cake.
“Sounds lovely! But I don’t know who'd come.” We’ve lived a pretty quiet life lately.
“Mom,” she countered. “You have LOTS of friends who would come.” The Preacher liked the idea. And her plan. I agreed. Her yard. The whole works.
Weeks later, she dropped in. Looked around. “Your yard is so pretty. We should have your celebration here.”
An at-home event would be better for the Preacher, I knew. We agreed to switch venues and started over. A tent? Scratch that. Smoked meat? Nope. A hot meal. Nope also. A very large, purchased cake? Make that two. Cold drinks. Fruit. When we had it figured, Amanda designed an invitation for posting on Facebook.
A few nights later, I started fretting. Suddenly it all seemed too much. Too much to do. Too much to expect of others. Too much for just one day of happy. About the time panic attacks began, God sent the kitchen angels. Twin friends, Naomi and Ruth. Organized, capable, encouraging. Supreme bakers. “We’ll make all the desserts,” they said, “and be your hostesses.”
Our BC son Anthony arrived a week early to assist with preparations. Shovelling, lifting, fetching, mowing. Even making bookmarks for guests. And all week, we monitored the weather app. The forecast looked good. But minutes before start time, the twins and I stood beside the cake table and merrily perking coffeepot, watching raindrops dampen our party-ready backyard. Would it be a brief squall or an enduring one? Who could know?
“Lord, help,” we prayed. “Show us what to do.” Suddenly, we knew. “We have to move.” We posted signs, and all available hands pitched in to load the food and decorations into vehicles and cart it down the street to the church we attend. (Thank you, Pastor John and MBC.)
It’s behind us now, the big celebration that scared my socks off. All over except the thank yous. I sit and click, surrounded by cards and gifts, basking in warm memories of the Preacher standing tall. Smiling. (A wonder, that.) Of hugs and greetings from folks we love, family, friends and past parishioners. We ended the day thoroughly spoiled and supremely blessed.
And I realized (again) that the most beautiful thing in the world isn’t a perfect venue, a three-course meal, or sublime weather. It’s the people who matter. Those who’ve walked with you through life, who’ve encouraged you and who you have encouraged. People who care enough to make time for you, even if it’s inconvenient or costly.
It’s love that counts most—and rain can’t dampen that.
Sunny Side Up has inspired readers with glimpses of everyday life and Christian faith since 2001. Contact Kathleen at sunnysideup.press@gmail.com