When I woke up this morning, my age had already advanced to 41 in Japan. At least calendar-wise. But here in the 'Boro of Middle Tennessee, today is my last full day as a 40 year-old. Otherwise known as my birthday eve . . . part and parcel of my new found practice -- begun last year -- of celebrating birthday month. A neighbor friend kind of eased me into it, having exercised the option within her own family for years. It's a spiffy idea. Feel free to adopt it and pass it on.
Besides a few posts on Facebook and a humorous message on my iPhone voicemail service, much of the actual celebration has been internal. Some measure in the form of a retrospective life review; a larger measure manifested in a simple gratitude which has managed to overtake both my brain and my heart. As much as it scares me to believe, as much as it pains me to say, I've got it so very good! And even in the midst of the painful curveballs which seem to endlessly hurl from the unseen hand of a relentless power pitcher, I've had it pretty darned good for quite some time.
When I suffer, I suffer within the safe confines of this American democracy, which, regardless of its flaws, is still one of the best governments in the world. When I hurt, I hurt with the support of numerous fellow burden-bearers who willingly ask to share the load. When I suffer a crisis of faith, the Christ at the center of my faith does not desert me. While my children vex me to no end at times, they yet love me through calls, hugs, and declarations of earnest affection. While my baby brother still struggles in his life, he is able to share each and every day with me. While my finger joints now assert their slow age-related breakdown, our insurance continues to assert its coverage of Vanderbilt-worthy rheumatologists.
Though I slept poorly last night, I can laugh when my husband recounts how I tossed, turned, moaned, groaned, twitched, kicked, covered, uncovered, and otherwise made peaceful slumber in our bed an impossibility for him. My hardworking husband who went in to work on Friday late morning and did not return home from a team work project until 4am wishing, hoping, and praying for nothing more than sweet oblivion beneath his comforter. Though the elephant residing in my sinus cavities (thanks for the turn of a phrase, Melba!) has evidently signed up for an extended stay, I could still taste and revel in the extraordinary flavor of the best, BEST, hot chocolate ever to pass over my palate -- Starbuck's salted caramel hot chocolate. Thanks, Ashley, for the treat. Mmmm mmm. And, though another of Gary's birthdays will pass without benefit of my company in the flesh, he will soon enjoy the Nike Free Run black running shoes AND Nike socks we ordered together, him thumbing through his catalog, me cruising the web on the Mac, headed his way courtesy of Zappos.com. And, I DO have the privilege of sharing Rebekah's 40th birthday with her on the 28th . . . ALL DAY!
I about tripped a breaker switch in my head, ticking off the list of lovely people I've collected along life's merry way. How much love is one person allowed to receive from others? Because I'm quite certain my mailbox is full -- and it ain't junkmail! And I return the affection a hundredfold. It may sound maudlin, but remember something . . . this is me. I feel things. Constantly. Deeply. Truly. No drama. No exaggeration. Simply unadulterated emotion for the beautiful things in this human existence which so effectively ease the ugliness of plight and pathos.
The evening wanes under the light of an almost full moon. It's gorgeous. Earlier, I walked along the stone garden path my family (and Ashley's boyfriend) helped create, admiring the yellowed fallen leaves from the Kwanzaan cherry tree I planted last year. To my left, the Forest Pansy redbud spread its poetic bare branches across the entire corner of the yard, hovering above the active hub of fauna activity I call a bird feeder. Our cat considers it a snack bar. Fortunately, cardinals and sparrows appear to have short memories. From my hand, the purple line of Panda's leash trailed away from me into the darkness ahead. Her distinctive furry bulk gently swayed as she pulled me beneath the weathered cedar arbor I painstakingly chose almost 7 years ago while designing our landscape. I marvelled at the pleasure which has been mine each time I raised the blinds and took in these natural sights. Winter, spring, summer, and fall. Flowers and vines have climbed, flourished, withered, died; only to regenerate in that endless cycle of growth. Neighborhood children have run through the grass, searching out the wonderful fireflies at twilight or the evasive butterflies in the noon breezes or the fascinating caterpillars which breed on the heavy heads of the dillweed plants. Neighbors have enjoyed heirloom tomato salsa spiced with jalapeno and cilantro from the beds along the fence. My son earned many a dollar one weekend selling all manner of produce to passers-by. My yard is a haven. A true blessing.
I could go on. But I run the risk of redundancy. Or overkill. My point is clear. Whether in birthday month, or out, whether I'm comfortable with it, or not, things in my life are pretty good. And I'm not taking any of it, or anyone, for granted. Now I must be gone. There's a distracting pile of presents on the dining room table. It's 54 minutes to midnight. It'll be my birthday then. What is the etiquette on a problem such as this?
Lovely post and fitting for the week ahead! You have a wonderful day!
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