Long ago (I can’t recall when) I began to see my birthday as another day
in my life; one, as all those before, rife
with the joys unbounded and sorrows abundant
that existence in this earthly sphere makes us all heir.
Some, these joys and sorrows, reside within me, verily, ineluctably.
And as I live with me, I’m daily privy, unavoidably,
to my every emotion of elation and lamentation,
every expression of commendation and malediction,
every thought of dignity and infamy,
every doubt about decency
in and of the world and in me…
And on those days when I most behold within me my shadow and not the Son’s lovelight, then it’s difficult for me to celebrate, even with enthusiasm slight, my birthday.
Now, your birthdays –
whoever you are (whether I know you best or least, for I honor all of you as God’s handiwork, thus, even on your worst day, creations gracious and glorious) –
are special days for me, granting me annual opportunities to give thanks for you.
Hmmm, why is it so hard for me to give to me what I easily offer to you?
A fellow blogger (I read her religiously) writes candidly courageously of her insights into her struggles with her life and herself; arriving at a place and time where and when, even on her worst day, she can behold her very self as a gracious, glorious work of God. For her to deny the truth of which the psalmist sings that she is fearfully and wonderfully made would be to disown her faith in God and dishonor her hope in God. I’ve not shared with her how much, how often she, in her sincerely honorable and searingly honest self-acceptance, testifies to me of a fitting response to God’s love, as Isaac Watts penned, “so amazing, so divine (that) demands my soul, my life, my all.”
So, on this my natal day anniversary, forsaking not again my gratitude to God, I give to me what I easily give to you and wish myself the happiest birthday!
Sirin and Alkonost, The Birds of Joy and Sorrow (1896), Viktor Mikhaylovich Vasnetsov (1848-1926)
Detail – The Hands from the fresco, The Creation of Adam (1511-1512), Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (1475-1564)