The One Day of the Year that the Sun Shines

Luke and I are home safely, and we have stories to tell. But I will first tell the home story.

I have been anticipating seeing my lilies bloom for nearly a year. They were the first thing I planted in my yard last Fall, and I knew they were going to bloom while I was away in California. So I asked Derek to take a picture, which he of course forgot to do, but it didn't matter because some of the neighborhood kids pulled all my blooms and buds off! I cried so hard and long that I got hiccups. I am devastated. My Mom tried to tell me to be forgiving. Derek told me to watch this U2 movie The Sweetest Thing to understand how he feels about it. I thought that was sweet, but I still miss my lilies. I was so upset that I went next door with the lilies (roots and all) in my hands to ask the German speaking neighbors what they knew (they have three often unsupervised children playing in the street - chances were good it was them). It was hard to converse with their mother, but I was pleased to see how sternly she spoke to her children, and even more pleased that later on the little boy came over to apologize and stared hard at his toes. I reminded him (in English and his mom tried to translate) that if you let the flowers bloom, they will bloom more so we shouldn't tear them up. I was glad my Mom's advice allowed me to be kind when minutes before I wanted to rip the eyeballs out of the person who hurt my flowers so they could never again appreciate a lovely lily. I'm not really mean and unforgiving. In fact, I feel especially tender towards children. But this emotion is so powerful. I feel like the child in the story that lives on the moon and is shut in the closet on the one day of the year that the sun shines.