I woke up this morning, my 38th birthday, thinking about the things I miss, the things I want, the things I’ll never have again. Birthdays are, by their very nature, perhaps the most selfish of days, and I not only embraced the selfishness, I wallowed in it.
A text message from a friend changed that.
It directed me to look outside, to see if perhaps the birthday fairy had left a gift basket. Given the sometimes antagonistic nature of this particular friendship, I knew the bag had an equal chance of containing flaming poop as it did fantastic birthday goodies.
Fortunately, it contained the latter: a thoughtful card and a few assorted gifts (great), chocolate Yoo-Hoo (greater) and cheese Danish (greatest). And with that, my thoughts turned from mourning what I wanted to celebrating what I have.
· family members who made certain I heard from them with their own unique greetings;
· a mother who drove almost an hour to bring some food and help clean my house, doing the chores I’m still unable to do while I recover from knee surgery;
· a best friend whose son took his first steps.
That text message also helped inspire to return to church today, and one quote from the sermon will stick with me for a long time: “Being content is the greatest thing.”
It has been a happy birthday, one of the best, thanks to all of you. I am content. It really is the greatest thing.