August 20 – “Happy birthday, Mom”

Yep.  Today is my Mom’s birthday.  Wonder how they handle such things up in heaven.  Guess they don’t have to accentuate one particular day since every day is so awesome.  And even if they did, it probably wouldn’t be the anniversary of entry into the sinful world.  More likely the day she achieved her boarding pass to heaven.  Or perhaps the day she got there.  Either way, it’s a good time for her.  A really good time. 

We went to a funeral in Houston yesterday.  we were pretty sure how to get there, but we entered the address in the new app Kel loaded on my phone.  It’s called Waze.  The idea is that drivers in real time can send in updates on things like road conditions and police presence.  The reports are then immediately transferred to the app.  Otherwise it is pretty much the same as Google Maps.  It does have one fun extra on it though.  It measures how fast you are driving based on GPS pings.  It also knows the speed limit.  So if you go over, at first it just shows a small red circle with the posted speed limit in it.  If you get up to five miles over, though, that red circle suddenly gets bigger, like it’s jumping out at you to get your attention.  It was great fun to be the navigator and be able to tell Chris when she was going too fast.  I don’t think she enjoyed it as much as I did.  The problem came when the device took us to what it determined to be the address in question.  Not the right place at all.  We were on the feeder street of a freeway in Houston that could only be accessed from the rear, and the address was an old dilapidated building.  Not exactly First Baptist Church.  I quickly entered in “First Baptist Church” instead of the address, and it immediately re-routed us to the right place.  Almost as if it was saying, “Oh. THAT address.” Chris was not at all impressed and wanted the Google Maps Siri voice back. 

Last night we went to Gringos.  That’s a local Mexican food restaurant that is Chris’ favorite.  Kel and his family treated us for her birthday, so it was another “Happy birthday, Mom” occasion.  They were waiting outside for us when we pulled up.  Noa spotted us right away, and tried to run to give us s hug.  Not a good idea in a restaurant parking lot.  Fortunately Daddy saw her and a well-placed arm tackle stopped her in time.  Oh, we still got our hugs.  Just in a little safer place.  The food was pretty good.  Except for my queso covered tostada.  It was cold.  I mean like cold as if it had been in the refrigerator.  Our waiter graciously reported it, and the chef came out with a replacement that was clearly steaming.  He leaned down to me and quietly said, “I stuck my finger on top of this one and it burned, so it should be hot enough.”  I like that guy.  The staff later came out and sang their little birthday song to Chris.  I have no idea what the words were, but everybody clapped along, so I did too.  They even gave her a hugs bucket of their ice cream.  Well, actually the bucket was a crispy tostada covered in cinnamon.  Chris shared. 

1 Corinthians 10:17 says, “Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf.”

Father, thank you for cinnamon buckets filled with ice cream and family to share it with.  Amen.