Pentecost – the breath of God

Today is Pentecost Sunday. It shouldn’t be, but it is a sad day. So much confusion. One trouble after another. Many questions, and not enough answers. Great rumblings; the voices are loud and mixed; hard to find clarity. Passion stirs activity, emotions and hysteria. There is need for understanding of what’s going on.

Before this week, we tried to stretch our comprehension of what’s happening in the world with the vengeful threat of coronavirus. But today, the stifling fear of the mysterious virus has been dominated with grief and anger riding the streets of big cities in the US.

Today is Pentecost Sunday. A time to celebrate the sending of the Spirit of God to the apostles, disciples, and then the multitudes, 50 days after the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus sent His Spirit to both Jews and Gentiles. The Spirit is for all, old and young, believer or non-believer. It is up to every heart to accept through faith in Jesus.

Yet, it is a sad day.
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Entertaining meanderings while gazing out my window

Gazing out my window is still my favored pastime during the shelter-in-place. It’s amazing that what I see outdoors never fails to entertain me. A lot of times, it beats watching TV. Because what I see provokes meanderings of the mind, some amusing, some puzzling or intriguing and even some, nostalgic.

I notice more bikers pass by than before the shelter-in. After all, the street in front of my house is perfect for biking, especially this time when few cars drive by. Besides, the tree-lined street offers a scenic view that makes it more enjoyable for cyclists and pedestrians.

Strange to see is that the bikers, compared to pedestrians that walk by, show greater enjoyment of their freedom and activity as they whoosh by – almost like an infectious lighthearted abandon. Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m not judging – just observing and sharing impression, maybe a crazy one at that.

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How awesome is this?!

Milk was top of my grocery list. Just had enough for one coffee break. So, I told my daughter Joy when I facetimed with her that I planned to go to the store next day. Her reaction was a stern advice – no, Mom, don’t go; just use Instacart. Now, for this Lola, Instacart sounded Greek. And since I don’t know Greek, I replied, I’d rather drive to the store just 10 minutes away. She insisted that I stick to the shelter-in guidelines still enforced in our county. Better still, she offered to do the ordering for me from her home in the Los Angeles area, using Instacart. I gave her my short list, thinking it would take hours or a day for delivery to come.

Lo and behold, the delivery arrived in two hours. And the nice surprise was, a big bundle of pink-orange roses was delivered along with the food items. How awesome is that! Not only do I have my needed milk, eggs, bread, carrots and tomatoes, almost in a flash, but also the unexpected gorgeous bouquet – for Mother’s Day! Immediately, I facetimed my daughter and blew a generous flurry of my thank you flying kisses. A lesson from her – learn to use Instacart, especially during these shelter-in times.

My son John emailed me the image of my grandson’s drawing for inclusion in my Something Curious, Book 3, a fairy tale. My 10-year-old grandson Eliott has been instrumental in shaping my story material with valuable comments, suggestions and insights, tremendous feedback from a young boy. Working with him on the story, I genuinely felt humility – while this baby boomer Lola truly felt elated, I, too, felt humbled to learn so much from this youth who, even now, doesn’t realize how his ideas effectively motivated and inspired the completion of my story material.

Roses from my daughter, for Mother’s Day.

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