It’s twenty minutes until I’m 28. That’s right, I’m still in my twenties! It’s taken me eight years, but I refuse to lament about how I’m not in my early twenties anymore. I realize that in two years I will be regretting how I cried on my twenty fifth birthday. C’mon, I’m TWENTY EIGHT! Bring it on!
I used to not care about celebrating my birthday, and I’m not really sure why. I didn’t really see the point in celebrating the day in which we are born. Yeah yeah, the gift of life is worthy of celebration, but I always found it rather strange the way we go about it. I’d just prefer you to tell me on any random day that you love me and am glad I was brought into this world, not just once a year in a card because you should. But, like many things I’m noticing, as I grow older I’ve come to appreciate the event. I understand that I love to celebrate a life and if a birthday is cause to express gratitude for that life and all that life means to me, then I will love to celebrate a day of birth!
That is until my birthday comes around, and then it’s kinda tricky. I always feel so awkward about it. Like, please, don’t make a fuss over me, really, it’s not a big deal. But on the other hand, if no one calls I know I would feel forgotten and let down. Funny eh? (At least there will be Facebook to remind everyone. Ha!)
I do love my birthday this year, finally, and let me tell you why. There are a couple of reasons actually.
The first is because for the first time I get it, I really really get it. Deep in my spirit I KNOW that the Creator of the universe(s) planned ME. I personally know His hand wove me together in my mother’s womb. Pslam 139 has come alive to me. What I always knew in my head to be true is now real in my heart of hearts. God doesn’t make mistakes. Sure, there are unplanned pregnancies (I am one, and have three precious ones of my own!) But each of us is incredibly pieced together, and regardless of how that turns out, God knows what He is doing. And be assured, He has a plan and purpose for each life however long, however short. Do you believe that? I pray you do. And if not, I pray that you will experience the same revelation that I have.
The second reason why I love my birthday this year is because something my mom has always reminded me of seems more real to me. And I know why.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m adopted. My parents knew they were getting me before I was born, so I wasn’t like, months or years old or anything. That’s something I’ll write about when it’s not so late.
Being the compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful person my mom is, every year she always remembered my birth mother. She would always remind me that somewhere “out there” was the women who carried me inside of her for nine months, birthed me, and selflessly allowed me the life she felt was better than what she could give me (for which I am forever grateful). And I know that this year, having three beautiful children of my own, I can’t imagine not knowing them. This year, I too have empathy for a mother who never knew her child. I know her decision wasn’t easy and I pray rich blessings for her and a peace tomorrow trusting God with the baby she carried. I have never “felt adopted” and 99% of the time I forget that I am. This is probably the first time I’ve ever really wondered if she does remember March 10, 1982. One thing I know for sure, my Mom does, and even though she’s in Florida I know she celebrates me everyday of the year too. A gift I hope to pass on to my children that they will carry with them their whole lives too.
This has all given me an insight into the love of my Father. It’s finally becoming more than head knowledge to me. I always believed it and I’ve said it a thousand times to others, “God loves you. You’re special because He made you. You are a child of the King!” and now I really am able to understand it.
I used to not care about celebrating my birthday, and I’m not really sure why. I didn’t really see the point in celebrating the day in which we are born. Yeah yeah, the gift of life is worthy of celebration, but I always found it rather strange the way we go about it. I’d just prefer you to tell me on any random day that you love me and am glad I was brought into this world, not just once a year in a card because you should. But, like many things I’m noticing, as I grow older I’ve come to appreciate the event. I understand that I love to celebrate a life and if a birthday is cause to express gratitude for that life and all that life means to me, then I will love to celebrate a day of birth!
That is until my birthday comes around, and then it’s kinda tricky. I always feel so awkward about it. Like, please, don’t make a fuss over me, really, it’s not a big deal. But on the other hand, if no one calls I know I would feel forgotten and let down. Funny eh? (At least there will be Facebook to remind everyone. Ha!)
I do love my birthday this year, finally, and let me tell you why. There are a couple of reasons actually.
The first is because for the first time I get it, I really really get it. Deep in my spirit I KNOW that the Creator of the universe(s) planned ME. I personally know His hand wove me together in my mother’s womb. Pslam 139 has come alive to me. What I always knew in my head to be true is now real in my heart of hearts. God doesn’t make mistakes. Sure, there are unplanned pregnancies (I am one, and have three precious ones of my own!) But each of us is incredibly pieced together, and regardless of how that turns out, God knows what He is doing. And be assured, He has a plan and purpose for each life however long, however short. Do you believe that? I pray you do. And if not, I pray that you will experience the same revelation that I have.
The second reason why I love my birthday this year is because something my mom has always reminded me of seems more real to me. And I know why.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m adopted. My parents knew they were getting me before I was born, so I wasn’t like, months or years old or anything. That’s something I’ll write about when it’s not so late.
Being the compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful person my mom is, every year she always remembered my birth mother. She would always remind me that somewhere “out there” was the women who carried me inside of her for nine months, birthed me, and selflessly allowed me the life she felt was better than what she could give me (for which I am forever grateful). And I know that this year, having three beautiful children of my own, I can’t imagine not knowing them. This year, I too have empathy for a mother who never knew her child. I know her decision wasn’t easy and I pray rich blessings for her and a peace tomorrow trusting God with the baby she carried. I have never “felt adopted” and 99% of the time I forget that I am. This is probably the first time I’ve ever really wondered if she does remember March 10, 1982. One thing I know for sure, my Mom does, and even though she’s in Florida I know she celebrates me everyday of the year too. A gift I hope to pass on to my children that they will carry with them their whole lives too.
This has all given me an insight into the love of my Father. It’s finally becoming more than head knowledge to me. I always believed it and I’ve said it a thousand times to others, “God loves you. You’re special because He made you. You are a child of the King!” and now I really am able to understand it.
Ug, I am not intending to blog novels here, but one last thing I would like you all to know. My incredibly loving, caring, sacrificing husband is downstairs decorating, wrapping and up to special tricks in preparation for the morning. (We will have two very disappointed little girls if we dared to have a birthday festivity with out balloons, presents, and the Dora banner!) But I know he wants me to feel loved, acknowledged, and special. What I hope he knows is that he makes me feel like that everyday, not just once a year. For THAT I have no words to express the gratitude and humility I feel for him in my life.
1 comment:
Wonderfully said.....
Happy ..." God made You Day"
S.B.
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