29th... the best birthday

A pair of diamond earrings, a surprise visit from my mom, a side-by-side delux body scrub and massage at the spa with mom and a blueberry chiffon birthday cake dollopped with whipped cream and fresh berries. A house full of flowers.

These are a few of my favorite things... beautiful memories my husband surprised me for my birthday. Those who know me best are appreciating this because they know Aric got it so right. He knew just exactly how to love me. Poor guy had to dodge my incessant questions about the weekend (They seemed innocent at the time... but I really need to stop this Lois Lane act.) and had me believing that I was flying somewhere by myself on Saturday morning when we pulled up at Burbank Airport to see my mom waiting at the curb with the biggest smile on her face. He then dropped us at the spa and for dinner, Korean birthday soup and dinner were waiting for us at my favorite spot in Orange County -- my aunt and uncle's, and Nary's, my younger sister I never had.

The birthday weekend started on Friday, when I came home after a horrible day at work. (A story killed, a wet purse and an ugly dent in my car) On my way home, I called Aric, and after listening to me vent, he asked me what time it was. I glanced up at the time and it said 5:13 p.m. He said from this point on, my day is about to get exponentially better. And it did. I came home to gifts from my mother-in-law, a bouquet of flowers from my sister-in-law. Then my father-in-law walked in the door with another armful of flowers and words on a card still imprinted in my heart. After dinner, friends started streaming in bearing gifts but most importantly giving me what I value most -- their time and their presence. They knew just how to love me too -- a Barack Obama book on CD, a Burke Williams gift card, and a book by C.S. Lewis and a collection of essays that feature BOTH Pastor Tim Keller and artist Makoto Fujimura.

A lovely co-conspirator -- my sister Irene who for weeks e-mailed back and forth with Aric to set up my mom's trip -- asked me in her card whether I could appreciate just how loved I am... by my husband who arranged everything, by my mom, my sister and all those involved, including my brother-in-law who took my mom's shift at the dry cleaner's so she could come. I could. Profoundly.

resting place

Impatient and restless. I teetered between the two emotions for weeks, my days punctuated by the dull pain in my back and dryness in my eyes. Every morning, I would drag myself out of bed, with my eyes on the Bible at the nightstand but with never enough time to read it. Then the battle with traffic, and the marathon run of copy and deadlines and interviews and phone calls at work. I would return home with barely enough energy for cooking, cleaning and time with Aric.

The job that threw me into this a brutal schedule is something I had prayed for. For seven months I felt a different kind of restlessness, trapped in what seemed like a very long season of unemployment. I love my work. When I am reporting and writing, I feel God's pleasure just as a runner might as he runs. The question I've been struggling with is how to find rest amid the busyness, which seemed to elude me as I get older, the workload heavier and expectations higher.

So I went to the mountains. For two days, I turned off my cell phone. I didn't check e-mail. I didn't drive. All I did was worship, eat and play with about 270 other friends from church at Forest Hills campsite in Big Bear. It almost felt like my life, spinning out of control, came to a full stop. And when that gap was filled with silence and praise it became my resting place.

I own an obscure piano CD of hymns, a gift from a friend long ago that I pull out from time to time when I need to relax. When I arrived at the retreat center, music from that same CD played in the santuary as if to beckon me in. Then I began to see them. God's ubiquitous touch. A praying elderly woman and her beautiful wrinkly hand as it gently floated above a young woman's bowed head. Long walks, long talks. The wise words of a woman to never hold God hostage to an outcome you want in prayer, but to choose to live in ambiguity and fear that forces one to find peace that surpasses understanding. Every touch was filled with such overwhelming hope and love for us.

I returned exhausted and yet deeply rested. All this time I've been running to Burke Williams and yoga to find pockets of rest, God's touch had been so available.

a peaceful sunday

One of the things I loved about my days in Japan was that beauty seemed ubiquitous... in the most ordinary. Flower lined stoops of tiny houses, a delicate plum blossom on a snowy morning, glimpse of the glittering Sumida river from a JR train. I don't think there is more beauty to be found in Tokyo than here in Eagle Rock, in sprawling Los Angeles. For whatever reason --my youth or the foreignness of it all, the loneliness -- life seemed inexplicably so so pretty in Japan. I don't get lost in those moments here, driving from one interview to another, poring over copy at work, cleaning our apartment or laughing with friends.

But today, I was able to rest in a moment so ordinary and so beautiful. I sat across from my husband eating dinner, and as we talked about friends, theology and food, I couldn't help but smile at how close I felt with him. And the same warmth that I felt in my stomach when he first smiled at me, the same flutter of the heart -- I felt again. Today, I was able appreciate the gorgeous sunset that splashed across the sky, today I was able to lose myself in cooking, today I was able to worship a God who sets me free - "no guilt in life and no fear in death."