Just Another....

Another birthday passed.  Another milestone reached.  Another day down.

But writers, you know, don’t ever see things quite that black and white. 

I am one of those people who are both celebratory and reflective on my birthday.  I like to eat and sing and laugh and birthdays are great opportunities for that.  I am always somehow just a little jazzed on my birthday even before I’m hopped up on sugar.  

People say so many nice things to you when it’s your birthday.  The advent of Facebook and Twitter have magnified those opportunities.  People who you forgot you knew throw all kinds of lovely words at you on your birthday.  

I know some people think those internet re-connections are shallow.  I think it’s nice.  And I’m pretty sure that people mean what they say when they are sending a birthday wish.  After all, they make the effort.  That’s nice.  Thoughtful.  Sometimes their words are very generous and they do all sorts of good to my ego.

I even have a couple of friends who send actual greeting cards with handwritten messages in them.  Love that.  To think that they took time before a particular date on the calendar to think of me.  That’s very nice.

There is usually lunch or dinner out on my birthday, too.  Which is fun.  I like any excuse to get together with people I like to be with to laugh and eat.  Presents are totally optional.  But laughter is required.

This year’s “birthday supper” was especially funny to me because I was out to eat with some absolutely fantastic, energetic, faith-filled young people. The fresh generation of leaders who are dedicated to changing the world for good.  They didn’t know it was my birthday until some point during the meal.  I told them they were my party – SURPRISE!  They turned the joke on me by buying my meal and then ordering the chocolate brownie and ice cream with a candle in it and singing to me!  So sweet.  So fun.

I was just trying to not be alone and found myself wrapped up in the kindness of others.  What a great gift.

Reflective is the other side of the coin for my birthday.  More than New Year’s Day, I think of what the year has held and measure where I am compared to where I want to be.  This year held all kinds of public writing since I met the editor of 5ive for Women magazine.  I bought a house, too.  That’s kind of a big deal.  

Some things have stayed the same.  Same job, same car, same quiet lifestyle.  Time seems to go by in flashes of sun and moon and suddenly I’m another year older.

I wonder what my Grandma and Grandpa would think if they saw me now.  Would they be proud?  Would they be comfortable with where I live and who I spend my time with?  What would they think of the focus points of my days?  How would they weigh my actions in light of what they hoped for me?  

More than any other time, birthdays make me think of that kind of thing.

I also think of all the birthday events that have come before.  I don’t compare one to the other.  I lay them out and review them like pictures in a photo album.  Balloons and hugs and flowers and angels and food served in so many places.  And laughter.  Oh my goodness!  Deep, hilarious, soft, chuckling, long and short of it laughter stringing each year’s memory to the next. 

By the way, call me crazy, but God always has it snow a little on my birthday.  I can’t think of a year He has let me down.  It’s like He’s reminding me that whatever the year behind held and whatever time before will bring, He is with me.  That’s nice, too.  

I don’t know how other people see personal holidays, but as for this writer: a birthday is a gift.  As someone told me on Facebook, being older is a gift not granted to many people.  It’s the kind of gift that gets unwrapped, shared, and then tucked away to take out on rainy days.  

I liked my birthday this year.  It held so many quaint moments of generosity.  I hope I am as good to others as they are to me.  

Below zero chill outside.  Frozen stars shimmering in the black winter sky.  Blanket of snow glowing.  

Another birthday passed.  Another milestone reached.  Another day down.

That’s how this writer sees birthdays.

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