the party never ends

Gladys is six today.

She seems far too complicated a person to be only six. 

There will be a little surprise Tea for her today to which her "best" friend (this friend is significantly older than her, a person who would likely by you be identified as a Young Lady and who, possibly, has other closer friends nearer her age although Gladys will not countenance this possibility) and other very favorite friend and, sob, all her sisters, have been invited.

Then later we will all eat Salad 

[On Thursday we attended a lavish and abundant Farewell Party in the middle of which was a table laden and groaning with Salad and All that in there Dwell--I know the technical name for a table of this kind is Salad Bar, but that does not indicate the Majesty and Beauty of this Table. Gladys arranged for herself a Salad of such Beauty that she could not, then, eat it. She danced around it. She chattered and laughed about it. She showed it to everyone. But she could not eat it. Instead she gathered it to herself to take home, in the back of the van, necessarily letting it fall face down to the floor.

"Why," I cried out to Matt over the sound of Gladys weeping inconsolably, "on Earth did you let her hold it in her lap in the back?" 

"She asked me if she could," he said, as if granting such a request is perfectly normal and right, as if he hadn't made thirty or forty speeches about the children never being allowed to eat in the car ever.

"Life is a veil of tears, a well of loss, but if you would like such a kind of Salad for your birthday, we could probably do that," I said to her later that night when she was crying again.

"Why is she still crying?" Matt wanted to know.

"Because her soul was in the salad," I said, "just like the unpainted wall at church is an outward and visible picture of the state of my own life, this salad represents all of her."]

for supper 

and cut into a large cake the shape of a Lamb for dessert.

I know. A Lamb? Really? Not the Heart or the Holly Hobby or the Star or the Flower?

No, a Snow White Lamb with Snow White Icing.

Happy Birthday Gladys! May the Lamb make you his own lamb and may you follow Him wherever he leads you.