Birthday Cake Alone

My birthday cake this year was a Mrs. Field’s Chocolate Chip Cookie that I ate alone in my hotel room.

Cry me a river. Boo hoo!

ABSOLUTELY NOT!! That chocolate chip cookie, alone in my hotel room, capped the best birthday I have ever had.

(Disclaimer - I was attending a conference that day and the leadership and attendees recognized my birthday and had a small party for me and one of the organization’s leaders celebrating a birthday on the same day that included cake and cupcakes. I never ate any because I was too busy visiting. The recognition is much appreciated - sugar rush or not.)

I am not someone who enjoys getting much attention on his birthday. Well-wishes and greetings are welcome, but anything that draws much attention is not. For many years, I would invite some friends to dinner and treat them without ever letting them know it was my birthday. Their company was the gift I sought.

This year, I attended a pastor/seminarian workshop and enjoyed a worship service in The First Baptist Church of the United States (and when they say first - they mean it!). I do not qualify in either category, but the idea of spending a day in spiritual discussion attracted me. It also happened to be sponsored by an organization I have supported since discovering - AWAB: The Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists. The topics and ideas that stuck with me have provided ample food for thought for the next few months. I went into the day, knowing that I valued and respected the opinions of the people present.

I exited the day valuing and respecting the opinions of the people present even more than I expected.

As enjoyable as the educated thought and discourse was, the disconnect from technology and the interaction with individuals in a small enough setting to connect with them, enhanced the spiritual renewal of the day. Many of the deep and sincere discussions connected to questions I had been pondering while seeking to reconcile my personal feelings with my social-justice theology. None of the conversations resolved any of the theological questions, but they provided fodder for my meditation and writing for some time.

The location for the event set the mood for contemplation nicely. Spending a day in a building 199 years old and worshipping in a building 238 years old (for a congregation celebrating 375 years years together) forces you to consider a broader span than we normally contemplate. Holy places draw us in, safely, opening us to more than we could get elsewhere. Even the grounds around the sanctuary for the buildings presented a holy feel.

Following the worship service, I arrived back at my hotel, bounding with energy. As I sat at the desk reading the email, Twitter, and Facebook birthday well-wishes, I indulged in the cookie and rejoiced at the day I had.

And There Was Joy

         10-11-12.

         46.

         12.32.

         27-12.

         90.

         Today is a day of numbers.

         My birthday was sequential this time: 10-11-12.

         The calendar has clicked around 46 times.

         My birthday dinner cost $12.32 (+tip – I’m modest with my generosity, but it was generous).

         The football team from my school won 27-12.

         Ninety people (so far) have sent me birthday wishes. I think I have responded to all of them except one – my mother who only has spotty cell phone reception.

         Birthdays are not something I value too much – mine or others. I did not do anything special other than stay alive. I do not make a big deal of mine and tend not to mention it unless directly asked.

The day though does prompt reflection: do I matter? This year, the answer is yes. More important than the numbers, no matter how trivial is the connection I make with others. Every day I get to promote justice. Every day I get the chance to influence. Every day I get to do what I love.

I’ll wake up starting my 47^th circle of the sun with joy – something about which I have written several times. Joy is not happiness; it emanates from a much deeper region. I live every day with joy.

The numbers. The greetings. The date. They just give me a reason to reflect and remember why.

 

Forty-one and Counting

For a number of years through my twenties I composed a letter each year that added one life lesson I learned for each year I had lived.

HOW FOOLISH!

I recognized the foolishness by the time I reached my thirties and so stopped the list. Life lessons are not always maxims that fit into a pithy sentence.

Now that I’m in my forties, I just don’t care!

It is not that I don’t care about the life lessons; it’s just that I don’t care so much about sharing them – life’s lessons are lessons that come from life. It really does not matter to me the lessons you’ve learned and you probably don’t want me preaching my lessons to you.

Well – maybe the life’s lessons that involve physics (sticking metal in an electrical socket, etc.) would be some things you can use, but do you really care that I’ve learned that single men my age are usually single for a reason?

Does it matter that I’ve learned that quality underwear can make a bad day at work so much better?

Does it matter to you that even though I’m a former English teacher I don’t think punctuation is necessary and that I can run clauses together to display a sense of urgency if that is how I want my writing to read for I’ve learned that communication is far more important than a syntax perfect paper.

Maybe you could benefit from understanding how, despite all the social reasons for rejecting it, my faith is a cornerstone of my character and that I believe maintaining an abiding sense of joy creates resilience and makes life worth living.

I could go on for thirty-six more, but I don’t really want to appear as foolish as I did in my twenties. I’ll just spend the next 366 days (leap year) figuring out lesson forty-two (see "pop culture" reference).