It happens quite often if you think about it. And for some reason, every year, it's such a big deal. It's nice to feel loved and admired- don't get me wrong- but I never ever, ever want my birthday to be just about me.
Because it's not.
After my birthday party- shh.. don't tell anyone- I cried a bit, partly of joy because I felt so blessed by my family and friends, but also sorrow because I didn't feel like I glorified God enough. We didn't even pray once.
I think I had this picture in my head that the church would come into my home, see where I came from- see my family and love them where they are. That we would gather together, and I could talk about how thankful I was to be given this chance to live. I wanted God to be in the midst of the celebration, because it was Him that I wanted to praise. For life, for purpose, and for chances.
My mother had a miscarriage before she had me. God took my older brother or sister home before they even had the chance to see light. I believe there are a lot of reasons God did that, but mostly I believe He took them home early so that I could have a chance to live.
Now here is a beautiful question that I get to ask myself often, and I believe it would do everyone good to ask:
Is how I'm living my life worth the death of my big brother or sister?
Because if they had lived, I wouldn't be here now. Am I living up to the very core purpose that God has given me?
There's so much more to life than boys and the new greatest iWhatever.
This life is no more than a gift from God, and a chance to live and choose the world or God. I choose God.
I choose God. (Emphasis on I choose God).
God has blessed me beyond numbers with my mom, who made my birthday party so amazing. So maybe I feel bad about the way I acted towards God on February 2nd, the day we celebrated my birthday. But I still have the real thing, February 3rd. And I want to glorify God with every minute of it.
God Bless.
