It’s my Birthday Eve

I woke up excited today.  It’s my birthday eve!  Isn’t it amazing that birthdays come every year and I never lose that special feeling?  I’m like a child in my anticipation. I probably started getting excited about birthdays at age 3.  There’s no way to remember for sure, except that my 3 –year- old niece lights up whenever the subject of birthdays arise.


The conversation goes something like this:


(Me) Guess whose birthday it is?
(Jubilee) Jubilee’s birthday!!!!


So, every birthday is her birthday.  And she doesn’t seem to lose enthusiasm when she is reminded that she just had a birthday.


Last night, I showed her how to hold up three of her fingers and connect her pinky and thumb for the universal “I’m 3 years old” sign.  She had a bit of difficulty maneuvering her hand, but I applauded her efforts and informed her that Aunt Lizzy is going to be 33!  (By showing my 3 fingers and then repeating the action!).


How can the routine of having a birthday every year evoke such excited feelings?  I mean, you’d think we’d all be used to birthdays by now.  And perhaps take a more “mature” approach to aging.
NOT ME!  I love my birthday traditions!  Of course my routines have room for diversity as I’ve been known to locationally hop around.


As long as I have coffee in bed.  With singing and birthday cards.  My family started this tradition when I was a child.  We’d perform this way for each sibling and for the parents.  I’d hear my door creak and pretend to still be sleeping.  Suddenly, sleepy voices coming from the end of my bed would begin to sing the birthday song.  Pillows would be propped for the birthday princess, breakfast (we settle for coffee now) in bed, gifts, giggles, and just the aura of celebration.


I’ve taken ownership of this special tradition and performed it for roommates and they happily comply when my day comes around.


Another tradition is to eat.  Chances are, the fam or a good friend will treat me to a special dinner, lunch, or coffee.


Cake or sweets?  I hope so!


But what I cherish most is words.  My love language is affirming words so you better believe my love tank is on overflow come February 6th.


But enough about me!  ha ha.  I believe the reason for celebration is that this is the day of all days in the year where we think of our existence. It’s no wonder that birthdays bring feelings of joy or possibly deep pain.  To not be celebrated the way God fully intended is to leave a void.  Can you imagine the world without you?  George Bailey (It’s a Wonderful Life) had the gift of seeing what the world around him would have been like if he had never been born. I know it’s fictional, but try to tell that to my tear ducts.  I cannot watch this movie without deep emotion and re-embracing the value of my life.


When we say ‘Happy Birthday’, we are really saying “I’m so glad you are here.  Life would not be the same without you in it.  It was a happy day when you came onto the scene.”


And that is never to be down played.  Ever.  You matter.  I matter.  Every day of our lives were written in God’s book of rememberances before any day was actually lived.


Another slightly random thing I am pondering is that Jesus lived his full life on this side of things at age 33.  I am turning 33 tomorrow.  Should this mean something?  (Laugh).
I haven’t come to any deep connections with the age significance except that Jesus lived a FULL life.  Perhaps not in numbers (we would say he died young), but in heart.  He lived fully.


I intend to enjoy every birthday.  Even if I live to be eleventy-one, like Bilbo, I will not hide my age as if it is something to be ashamed of.