Sheets of pink, presents of gold.

I celebrated a birthday with a friend last night. And it might as well have been my birthday because I feel like I received a gift.

The evening started with a drive out to Grand Haven. The big fat sun making it's way into Lake Michigan. We ran around throwing frisbees, bare-foot, and I realized how it's been much too long since I've been on a body of water. The waves crashed in, rolling under and over each other as the last bit of sun plunged out of the cloudless sky and into the lake. We made our way to the pier with the little red house. I have no idea what the other two were talking about because I was lost in the water. It was washing up onto the wet sand, leaving behind a sheet of gold and pink before it was absorbed into the beach. Add a few more friends, head to Kirby grill, and things just keep getting better and better. I ate a pizza with pesto, feta, artichokes, red onions, tomato and pineapple and had a creamy, dark lager while we laughed and chatted. Shuffle board and covers, poorly done, were our dessert. The original three then park our car in a church parking lot. Not so stealthily made our way to Rosy Mound, climbed stairs and hills and descended to the beach yet again, this time with the moon at our backs and the sky littered with twinkling lights over head. I turned to my friend, "This is exactly how it should be."
Life that is. It's risky, and a little brisk perhaps, but o, is it beautiful. This was exactly how it should be. We sat under the twinkling sky, talking about life and questions and doubts, finally snuggling into our lovely mummy bags after a Happy Birthday song to bring in a 24th year. I woke in the morning to a runner and barking dog, fog rolling over the ridge to the east like the fog coming off the hills in San Fransisco. The sun was creeping it's way up, making a line of rainbow colored light on the opposite horizon. For breakfast, we went to Morningstar Cafe, drank good coffee and ate delicious meals surrounded by brightly colored broken plates and the hum of conversation. We asked questions about life and decisions and futures on our way to Mars Hill, and ended up praying for these very issues as soon as we sat in the plastic chairs. Just saying "Yes", we agreed is easy in theory, and more difficult in practice. To be continued conversations about hope and faith and waking up. I sit here, tired, most likely from lack of sleep and the exposure of deep seeded questions. And yet, I feel like I too opened a birthday gift.

A gift of refreshment. A gift of friendship. The presents of nature, gifts of creation. I opened a little bit of community, thoughtful questions to my own thoughts and comfort in a shared quest. The vibrance of it all leaving behind a sheet of gold and pink like the waves on the sand. It was my birthday too yesterday. Thanks for sharing.