Happy Birthday, Rachel

With Rachel’s birthday approaching, I’ve thought about a lot of things. It’s her first birthday since transitioning to another realm.

I thought of her as a little girl, particularly on Thanksgiving, putting olives on the tips of her fingers and running around the house laughing and eating them.

This morning, I suggested to my Maker it would be nice if someone could spontaneously say something to acknowledge Rachel’s birthday.

In a worship service, the speaker whom I’ve known since before Rachel was born, talked about olives, not in a scriptural context, but about how much he disliked them and how his siblings loved them and put them on the tips of their fingers and ate them from each digit.

I felt a tingle, a loving divine wink. I looked at my wife who knew nothing of my recent musings or my prayer. She smiled and said, “Remind you of Rachel?”

I texted my brother who immediately responded. “Wow,” he wrote. “This morning, I had a breakfast buffet . . . I grabbed smoked salmon and capers, some corned beef hash, two pieces of bacon, and a little fruit. As I walked back to my table, I just stopped and grabbed a big scoop of black olives and put them in the middle of my plate. ‘For breakfast?’ I thought. I even said to myself, ‘That’s a weird choice.’ I had a bite of one thing and then an olive. My whole breakfast was a bite of something and then an olive.”

This evening, I shared my experience with a few dear friends over dinner. Without my knowledge, they did what true friend do, honoring my experience and my dear Rachel.

As the server cleared the table, she placed piece of cake directly in front of me. Next to the cake, sat three beautiful olives. I’ve never seen such beautiful olives.

Happy Birthday, Rachel. I love you, and I miss you.