Party Time!

The weekend I was on my honeymoon was also the weekend of my 30th high school reunion. I hated to miss that. I so wanted to see old friends and reconnect. I found out about it too late and we had already made our travel plans. Maybe the next one. But the upside is that a couple of friends have emailed me and I have reconnected to special people.

But back to parties...
I was thinking this morning about parties, the one I missed and the ones I've attended. I remembered a mediation I wrote a couple of years ago about parties and thought I'd share it here. Hope to see you at the next party!

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I like parties. I love old-fashioned parties where people are singing and dancing, telling stories and jokes, hugging on each other and slapping backs. Parties with an abundance of refreshment and laughter. Parties where all ages are welcome. Not many people have parties like this anymore, well, except for the occasional wedding reception and family reunion.

I once read a book by Tony Campolo called “The Kingdom of God is a Party.” I think it must be. In the Gospel of Luke chapter 15 there are three parties that occur. In this chapter are the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. Not party material? Read on.

In the parable of the lost sheep some poor lamb goes missing. Sheep are not the smartest animals on the farm. They will wander away. That is why a shepherd is needed. But in this story the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to go after the one. When he finds the lost sheep he gathers all his friends and neighbors together for a party. “Rejoice with me: I have found my lost sheep” (Luke 15:1).

The parable of the lost coin shows us a woman with ten silver coins. But she has mislaid one. Ever lost money? I have and like the woman of the parable I put on all the lights, move furniture, and go through dressers and pockets and books and cabinets. When the woman finds her lost coin she calls her friends and neighbors, “Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin” (v.9).

And finally in the story of the lost, or prodigal son, a father frantic with grief and worry sees the son who ran away coming down the road. He runs to his child, throws his arms around him and with tears of joy streaming down his face kisses him and holds on tight. Loath to let go of his returned child he calls to the servants with orders, “Bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate” (v.23).

We are God’s children. We all have been or are the lost sheep, coin, and son. Can you imagine the party thrown in Heaven when one of God’s lost is found, when a child finds his or her way home? I have been to some great parties, but the parties Jesus and the angels throw over “the found” must be fantastic indeed. These are parties I cannot wait to attend. And can you imagine how wonderful it will be when you are the guest of honor?
It is our call to help the lost to be found and in a way have a reason to give Jesus a cause to say, “Look! Come and rejoice with me for he who was lost is found! Let’s have a party!”

Honeymooners

Six months and three weeks later, we finally go on a honeymoon. We both needed this break, honeymoon or not. The difference between a holiday trip and a honeymoon? Staying in an expensive hotel (The Renaissance) eating out, doing touristy stuff and taking silly pictures of each other and together. Oh and doing honeymooner stuff in said hotel room. The weather was perfect, clear, sunny, and only mid 70s to 80 temps. Nearly everything went according to plan. And we are well rested and still very much in love. I think we shall have a honeymoon every year.

The downside is coming home with a head/chest cold that surely came from one of the many hacking airplane companions going up to Philly. We got home on Tuesday and before Wednesday morning I was miserable. At this writing, I am on the mend but still feeling a bit yucky.

Where did we go? Oh yeah... Philadelphia. We toured the PA countryside and ventured into Delaware and New Jersey.

My least favorite part of the trip was breakfast at a Denny's in Vineland, NJ. At the table next to us was a Hispanic family. Mama, Papa, and two daughters (about 8 and 13). Their waitress was also our waitress. While we got fairly good service, they got none. It seemed she was going out of her way to avoid this little family. They were seated before us but we had given our order first and was served before the "waitress" had even acknowledged them. They could not get refills on their coffee and by the time I was nearly finished they still had not received their breakfast! As you can imagine I was fuming, I was outraged!! I, too, began to look for someone to help this family. I could not see a manager of any description and the "waitress" (who did no waiting) ran past their table. Finally, the father managed to get a different server and ask about their orders. I saw the woman talking with the "waitress" and the other servers, but no one came to the family's aid. By this time I had lost my appetite and just wanted to leave. The family also began to leave but no one would take their money for even the coffee and hot chocolate they had managed to obtain. Out came my pen and pad and I began to write a scathing letter to the manager (knowing full well he/she might not read much less do anything or care). Nigel had pity on me and finished so we could leave. By this time I was struggling to hold back the tears of anger. No. We did not leave a tip for our so-called-waitress. I handed my letter to the cashier asking her to see that management got it. I'll never know if that happened. What I do know is that I am ashamed to know that racism is alive and well in America. And it ain't only in the South folks. Yankees are just as heartless and rude. This little family is just like millions of families across America. They deserved the same respect and service we all desire. Just because they were Hispanic (and just like the Blacks in the past) they received disdain. I had hoped that one day bigotry would die. It won't. And I am left with a really bad perception of a small town in New Jersey.