Maybe it's some sort of arrested development thing, that my birthday makes me feel a little kid. I only remember one birthday party (I think it was my 8th), and the most significant thing I remember about that is the gift my Grandma gave me. There was this HUGE box wrapped with very colorful paper, and I was all excited. What could possibly be in such a large box? I opened it, and it was filled with newspaper. I dug down into the box, and there was nothing but more newspaper! I was just at the point that I was ready to cry that my Grandma would be so cruel as to give me a box of newspaper for my birthday, when my Mom reached in, dug around for a bit, and came up with a small jewelry box. It was a topaz solitaire ring, set in 14K gold. (Topaz is the birthstone for November.) It was lovely, but my appreciation was dimmed a little because of the trauma of the box of paper. Don't ever think that your kids, nieces/nephews, etc., will think it cute if you do this. (I still have that ring, btw, although it doesn't even fit my pinky finger now. I'm thinking of having the stone made into a necklace someday.)

Anyway (Whew, I didn't know I was going to end up telling that when I got up this morning!), I think that one of the main reasons I get excited on my birthday is just the fact that I'm still having them. I can remember as a teenager not being able to imagine being in my forties. I know that if I did imagine it, it wasn't anything like it's turned out to be. Marriage--no, children--no, but all in all (present circumstances aside), it's pretty good to be 43. I'm relatively happy, but more important than that, I have a core joy that has to do with having God in my life and knowing He's on my side. I would say that cliche about "it's better than the alternative", but the alternative is pretty cool, too--for a believer. As a wise old man once told me, though, "Heaven is my home, but I'm not homesick yet."

posted by #Debi at 6:13 AM | permalink | 0 comments

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