Tomorrow is my B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y! I absolutely adore my birthday. Somehow I never transitioned into that grown up phase of, "Oh, please don't tell anyone it's my birthday because then they will know I'm another year older!" Some people might say that it is a sign of maturity, that I am accepting my age with grace. That's a nice thought, but probably not the whole truth. I mean, I do giggle awfully hard at bathroom jokes.
Most years I even go so far as to give a helpful birthday countdown to family and friends. Starting on Christmas, I let them know they have exactly one month to get me a gift, send me a card, write me a love song, etc. This year, for the first time ever, I got a little shy about it. I had the sudden realization that some people might actually think I care about, well, about getting gifts and cards and love songs.
Mortified. I was mortified to think that the family/friends I had been ribbing and bugging for years might actually think those things mattered to me.
Let me make this perfectly clear: I love my birthday because: It is the day I was born. The day I was given the gift of life. The first day I was held in the arms of the greatest human mom and dad that ever lived (barring Mary and Joseph, of course). The day that, for 36 straight years without fail I have been told that someone loves me and is thankful that I am around. Most years, it is a lot of someones. It is a day of rejoicing for me, but not about me. A day for rejoicing about everything I have been given.
Because when my loved ones tell me they love me, I don't see me. I see them. I see the gift that I have been given to have that person in my life.
What an incredible, unbearable, infinite treasure. If I tried to list all my blessings for you I would get weepy and emotional, which is already a damn problem today, dammit. (Oops. Hope the swearing didn't offend anyone.)
(Aside: I have a problem with my big feelings. I try to squash them with fits of humor and/or swearing. Looks like today we're going with swearing. Sorry.)
Look. Let's be honest. I am getting older. I am not as slender as I once was. (Ok, fine. I'm not slender at all.) My face has a couple wrinkles and my hair has a few strands of gray. Am I happy with the way I look? Not really.
But none of that actually matters. Do you hear me? NONE of that matters to me, deep down inside. I have been given the gift of life, the ultimate treasure. And as if that wasn't enough, God in his infinite love has given me - little old me - people to love, and so many more treasures besides.
Therefore, rather than focus on my ascending age or my descending, er, wrinkles, I'm going to focus on the gifts I have been given. Chances are, if you are reading this, then you are one of those gifts. Thank you for being a part of the best birthday present in the world. I thank God for you.
Please keep the March for Life in your prayers. Especially pray that the January 25 walk in D.C. is peaceful and that hearts are converted, specifically the hearts of mothers considering abortion and those of our leaders and lawmakers.