First properly cold morning, so the trà gừng is back. My mother's way: a thumb of fresh ginger sliced thin, simmered ten minutes, then honey and a squeeze of lemon once it's off the stove. It goes into the big thermos for the school pickup line, where I wait with both hands wrapped around the cup.
While it simmers I recite Nam mô A Di Đà Phật on my mala, ten recitations for every slice of ginger. By the time the tea is ready, so is the busy part of my head. The twins say the car smells like Bà Ngoại's house. That's the highest praise they have.
The twins had a fight this morning over which of them 'owns' the blue cup. We have two blue cups.
In the car I did what I've started doing on hard mornings: the loving-kindness phrases. May you be safe. May you be at peace. First for me (hardest). Then for each twin (easier, they were finally quiet). Then for the dad in the silver SUV who honked at me in the drop-off loop (hardest again, round three).
By the end I was laughing a little. He was probably late too. His kids probably also own the same cup. Nam mô A Di Đà Phật, and may we all make it through this week.
Amitabha in the pickup line
The school pickup line is twenty-two minutes of idling, so that's where I chant now. Nam Mô A Di Đà Phật, quietly, prayer beads looped over the gearshift.
Yesterday the twins climbed in mid-chant and my son asked if I was talking to the car. My daughter, very seriously: 'No, she's calling the Buddha of Infinite Light so he knows where we are.'
I couldn't have explained Pure Land practice better myself. She's seven.
The twins have decided they're in charge of the home altar now. This morning each of them offered an orange to Amitabha, rang the little bell much harder than necessary, and bowed. Minh bowed so enthusiastically he bonked his forehead on the shelf, then looked up at the Buddha very seriously and said, 'That was a really big bow.'
We chanted Nam Mô A Di Đà Phật ten times, then had the oranges for breakfast. Some days practice looks like a candlelit temple. Most days it looks like this, and I wouldn't trade it.