A blog intensifying the flavor of life and toasting those who share in the feast, rather than settling for a dry, plain, melba toast existence.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

one night

Tables were set up and covered with fabric I had purchased at the Salvation Army for three dollars a bolt. Thrift store plates and glass tea light holders were arranged with ribbon left over from someone's wedding. The downloaded printable letter pendant I had made at home to spell out the sentiment of the occasion was hung in front of the window.

Servers from the catering company, where my teacher husband works his part-time job, transformed an ordinary table into a sumptuous feast. Another table would display the Costco cake and a floral arrangement given by a friend. The bar was set with a variety of beer and wine including my favorites since I was the one doing the purchasing. A variety of jazz music cd's were placed in the queue.

Having run out of the door with the excuse of going to the gym, I now had to change into my attire for the evening: more thrift store finds, save my pearl necklace Christmas present. Hair curled and make-up applied, it was time to dim the lights, start the music and open the door to the arriving guests.

Months of planning were over. Whatever details were missed would have to fly away in the cold night air as the exterior lights shone the way to the door of this rented house built for celebrations. Colder than usual, the screened-in porch would not be able to be used and certainly not the wide front porch that would be charming on a warm summer night. A fire in the fireplace may have been a nice touch but was determined to be unnecessary. Our laughter and cheer would be enough to warm the room.

Time had sped up as the day had worn on and suddenly my husband was walking through the door as the party-goers stood on the other side of the room, their faces beaming with joy as they shouted, "Happy Birthday" and immediately sang to welcome him inside to his party. He would see old friends and new; those he needed to catch up with and at least one he would meet for the first time.

Early considerations for whom to invite for such a grand occasion led to interesting contemplation. By the end of the process I was reminded of the parable of the wedding banquet in which the people who were originally invited had decided for whatever reasons not to attend. The person throwing the party in the story then went out to the streets to invite whomever would come so the celebration could take place. Having no way of knowing who may show up, I invited as many people as I could and was as surprised by who came as who did not. Letting go of expectation, I welcomed each one with a warm embrace.

And though this was a party for my husband, thought out and planned with the full intent of honoring him on a significant birthday, for one very special night I got to be the lady of the kind of house I would dream of having, waited on by those whom I had hired with money I had been working hard to save for months, and honored by friends who love me. I got to throw exactly the kind of party I had always dreamed of throwing.

And it was glorious.  






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