This evening I pause to send a chuckle to my mama and daddy. They always made a big deal of my birthday. So, first, a bow to them. A touch to my heart and a sweet tear to say ‘happy birthday mama and daddy, you are missed.’

And the whisper this evening took me back to when I celebrated another birthday. Today it is 62 years. Then it was 56. Six birthdays have passed since this scrich was written. Six years but still a treasured memory. From fifty six to sixty two and still, I smile, to think I’m still not the hero I thought I would be…and I’m still grateful. And may we all know such grace….

“A benevolent truce in our Minnesota weather gifted the girls an opportunity for a road trip to pre-celebrate my birthday. Our first stop was an older house converted into a small non chained mystery book store tucked away in a small older neighborhood of Minneapolis. Wall to wall books, no Muzak, no coffee, no bright lights and you almost had to turn sideways between the racks of books to make your way through the store. I sat and watched my friends, like kids grabbing the gifts under a Christmas tree, plunder the racks for their favorite authors. The bell over the door would ring and other parishioners entered the sanctuary. The owner knew them by name, their favorite series, authors and offered hints on books not yet on the market.

Surrounded by books dedicated to some form of mischief and mayhem confronted by an astute and brave hero I breathed in the pre birthday realization that I am not the hero I thought I would be. The clues seem to evade me. I am not so much a whodunit as a notdunit. So many paths behind and before me. What lies ahead? Will I choose from the heart or necessity? Will I figure it out?

The musings drifted to the wolf moon that shone last night. It was the first full moon of 2010 and the biggest and brightest moon of the year. The weather would have hidden it for many but it was there. It is there when all we see is a thumbnail piece. It is there when the sun upstages its nightly monologue. Its presence was the only protecting constant before man discovered fire and light to ward off the terrors and mysteries of night. I am not the hero I thought I would be. The clues have not evaded me they have made me in their phases and cycles of fullness and pieces. I am not the hero I thought I would be I am the wolf moon. I have moments of brilliance and moments eclipsed or shrouded but at my core, my essence and my heart I remain faithful to rise again as I am. I am not the hero I thought I would be and for that I am grateful. Come Monday, when the moon rises for the fifty sixth year of my life I shall howl with the moon and the mystery shall be mine.”

And tonight…when the moon rises unseen behind the storm clouds, on the 62nd year of my life, I shall howl with the moon and the mystery shall be mine.” Oh yes. Whispered Grace.