‘Children, obey your parents [as God’s representatives] in all things, for this [attitude of respect and obedience] is well-pleasing to the Lord [and will bring you God’s promised blessings].’
Colossians 3:20
7 am in the morning, coffee machine running in the background, vibrations from the boiler ringing louder than ever in this quiet house. Outside, the birds chirp but not in their usual tone of invitation to a new day. The sun isn’t even out yet though, my prediction tells me it won’t be, and just like yesterday, rain is in the forecast. I’ve deliberately drawn the double glass door curtains, and I’m regretting getting out of bed this early. What was I expecting? Perhaps a view picturesque like the mornings in the spring- that was always exciting to wake up to, watching the birds come in to pick from their food stand, the sun’s golden light against the neighbour’s roofs. All I see in this moment is dampness, everything is so damp including the empty terracotta pots almost swallowed up by the overgrown weeds and grass that need cutting. The fog sits in the air, you can see it better from upstairs, but the grey almost has that frost effect on grass during icy cold winter mornings. I can’t help but look up to that grey sky, beyond it’s layers, into the depth of the heavens. Heaven though, is in my heart.
Tomorrow I turn a year older, it tends to be sunny on my birthdays so I can only wait and find out even though I feel like a child who can’t wait to unwrap her presents. Perhaps that’s why I’m sleepless, birthdays are a time to celebrate, reflect and dream I suppose. I can’t help but think, do we ever really grow old? In the physical sense and mental maturity of having to navigate through life’s responsibilities- of course, but in spirit? Or at heart as some put it. My inner child is probably the loudest voice I hear on a daily basis and I don’t think that’s different for anyone else. Its the voice that calls out ‘mama’ in a time as this, wishing tomorrow would be no different to the birthday morning she barged into my room, drew the curtains open singing happy birthday and smothered me with tickles and laughter. My inner child misses my mother’s laughter. My inner child still blushes at the warming messages my father sends me first thing in the morning every year and the adult in me weeps knowing I’m still a blessing to him as the day he held me in his arms and named me. God bless our parents, we have life because of them and if yours are as naturing, kind and incomparable as mine, honor them.
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