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It’s been a year (to the day) since we’ve invited this fantastic leprechaun, or anyone else for that matter, into our home. TONIGHT though, we will be celebrating her 93 years (to the day) together–inside, with live jazz piano and homemade ice cream cake, and without masks (as per love and prayers and CDC guidelines). Lord, have mercy!

Last night we went to Paris after attaching steps to Carolina’s tiny home near Concrete. We had the restaurant’s outdoor heated porch to ourselves because everyone else is starting to move back indoors. This business of socializing outside has been a blessing. I don’t want to return to how I did things before—crowding in commitments, not noticing what was good, not noticing what wasn’t. I can already tell it will be tempting to create a new normal in the hopes of feeling safe there. But will I feel this joyful?

About these daily 100-words-or-less posts for Lent:

They come in a different order each time—the words, the title, the photo—before the editing down. Now that we are halfway through these 40 days, it’s easier. I trust more. And delight, marvel even, when they land before me, complete. Writing with God does have a lilt to it.

Again then, why would I doubt? So human.    

When they told me she was a girl, I was absolutely flooded with warmth. We have shared zillions of flat-out joyful moments since then. What a spectacular human being she is. Happy Birthday to Carolina Jane. Happy Birthing Day to me.    

My son fell in love with beautiful Jannet. Jester came along with the package. Who’d have thought he, in particular, would become so attached to a dog?

Clarke’s a teacher. And a pianist. I wish we had thought to invite him inside to play jazz riffs last night. Masked still, of course….with the door flung open to the coming springtime. A gift for us and all the neighbors.

Now I know. Next time.