Tonight as I made dinner with my new cookware (please take a moment and sing the Hallelujah! chorus with me), I happened to look out the kitchen window when I thought I heard thunder. To my incredible surprise, I saw fireworks just to the north of my apartment. I just stood in wonder at the window, staring at the display that ran on for about five minutes.
Now, I have absolutely no idea why there were fireworks in Bucharest tonight. I have no idea where they were shot off from. But in a really tiny way, they were made for me tonight. I feel like my life has been a series of fireworks lately. Big and bold and beautiful and incredibly personal, in a sense.
I got to experience the fireworks involved in the first week of school. The crazy noise and the tiny sense of danger and the passion with which we begin the year.
I got to experience the fireworks involved in meeting someone new. The overwhelming beauty and the sense of something greater and the risk involved in every word and action.
My my heart is so completely filled with the fireworks of joy and new experiences and love. I am blessed beyond measure.
It is an increasingly common custom in Bucharest to have fireworks at your wedding (and all weddings take place Saturdays, rarely on Sundays). Just like taking a photograph under Arcul de Triumf (Arch of Triumph). It's pretty expensive and it's used more by people who can afford it, as a display of their status.
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