"Happy Birthday!"

Death has never been far removed from my birthday.  I distinctly remember spending my fifteenth birthday at a funeral service.  It is fitting perhaps, as I spent the bulk of my life wishing I had not been born.  And for that reason, amongst others, I have found it difficult to celebrate my birthday in past years; but not this year.

This year, a few months earlier, I had a moment with God, and in that moment, He shared with me something that I had never considered before – that He loves my birthday, that He celebrates my birthday, and that my birthday is a special day to Him.

Understanding this – hearing these words from the God who loves me – this made all the difference in the world to me.  This gave me a reason to celebrate!  Even if my birthday mattered to no one else, it matters to Him!  He loves my birthday, and oh, to love the things that Jesus loves!

So this year, I celebrated.  This year, I woke up early on July 19, happy to be alive.  This year, I spent the entire day with my husband, doing some of my favorite things.  And this year, a few weeks from now, I am going to celebrate it again with some close friends, most of whom have walked this journey called life with me long enough to know that birthdays have never really been my thing.

And this year, on July 22, my grandma passed away.  I went from a weekend of celebrating a life straight into a week of mourning a death.

But, “the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21b).”

If you had told me last year that my grandmother would be dying so close to my birthday, I would have just added it to the bitter list of reasons why I hated my birthday.  But this year is different, because a life is something to be celebrated – I know this now; and while a death is something to be mourned in part, the ending of a life well-lived and grounded in Christ is also something to be celebrated.  It is more a beginning than an end.

As I continue with my birthday festivities (as I fully intend to), I’m celebrating two birthdays now – my first one and Grandma’s second one.  So, Happy Birthday, Grandma Chapman!  I don’t mind sharing a week in July with you one bit.

When God Speaks

I woke up the other morning in a foul mood.  Foul.  I had never truly understood the expression "woke up on the wrong side of the bed" until that day, but I surely understand it now.  (It didn't help, of course, that I had awoken for the third morning in a row to the dogs whining, rather than my alarm chiming.  Although at least this time, they let me sleep past 4AM.)

In the course of the hour I had to get ready for work, I yelled at my Yorkie for barking, I yelled at my husband for not getting out of bed to help deal with the dogs, and I yelled at the hound for getting on the couch.  (The cats were only saved by the fact that I didn't even go over to their side of the house.)

I stewed the whole drive to work that morning, not even sure what I was so angry about.  Undoubtedly, the devil was having a field-day in my mind, though, because I was finding reasons to be angry at everyone.  They were just popping up in my brain, back-to-back, left-and-right.  She did this, he said that last night, they were so rude at that party back in January, he didn't even say "thank you," the stupid person driving in front of me is going two miles UNDER the freaking speed limit.  UGH!  EVERYONE SUCKS!

And while I was getting angrier and angrier at everyone else, I was also growing increasingly frustrated with myself... because I didn't want to be angry, and I knew that I was being completely unreasonable.  I was hoping this was just hormones.  (It's always nicer when you can blame it on that.)  I was also keenly aware of how much I sucked - just that morning alone.  Who was I to point a judgmental finger at anyone?  Nonetheless, I stayed angry.

And then I started meditating on Scripture.  Not even a passage that spoke directly to the situation - just Psalm 1.  By the end of the chapter, my perspective had changed.  I was thinking clearly, again.  God spoke, and nothing was the same as it was before.

Isn't that the way it's always been, from the beginning?  God spoke... and darkness became light.  God spoke... and what was bare was furnished.  God spoke... and timelessness was redefined by days.

I forget the value of God speaking, sometimes.  His words change everything.