I was born 23 years ago today. This is kind of a different Birthday. I am not turning double digits for the first time, becoming a teen, marking the day that I can drive, becoming eligible to buy cigarettes or alcohol,… it is one of those more mature markings…
23 years ago, my mom showered, rolled her hair, and put on make up before telling my dad that she was having contractions (which sounds so much like me). Again, I guess I am not the only one who wants my hair to look right even when distress is possibly on the rise!
I think back and 23 always sounded so old–not so much now! I thought I would have everything figured out by 19, but 19 came and went, and I still don’t have everything figured out. I am really still a baby in this thing called life in the grand scheme of things.
23–Today I was woken up in the middle of the night by texts from friends that were celebrating me and my birth. I woke up to my mom singing Happy Birthday. I “worked” on my Birthday. I was surrounded by loving co-workers, tons of teenagers, I had 6 teens serenade me at lunch today, many texts, facebook and twitter messages, gifts given to me, cake, cards,…ya know the whole deal!
Thank you everyone for celebrating me and my birth today.
Birthday’s are good days to remind yourself that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. They are marks of a new year, journey, and sometimes even seasons in life. You know, I think there is no mistake that it take 9 months to bring a child into the world. It is a process for the baby and the parents as well. Adjusting mentally, emotionally, and physically. We were part of a process and journey before we even set foot on land on our own journey. So cool! I also think that it’s interesting that in that 9 month process neither the mom or the baby are alone in preparing for the real journey. There has got to be strength that both the mom and the baby draw from each other.
In the same way, we have got to know that God prepared for us waaaaaaaaay more in advance than just 9 little months! His heart probably swelled in knowing that He would have little “mini him’s” everywhere!
As I look at pictures of my mom or dad in their 20’s I see myself in them…in what they did, what they looked like, and sometimes even how they thought. I wonder? Do I look like God in what I do, what He would look like, and what He thinks about? Hopefully, I have another 23 years to continue to ask those questions and look more like Him!