birthday

Happy Birthday, Josiah!

Derek Webster — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 05:30:19 -0800

Today my second son, Josiah, turns 17 years old. Let me tell you a little about him:

Josiah is a very smart, witty, and charismatic man. He spent a long time fighting the best in himself, but about two years ago turned a major corner. When he was young, I used to joke that given his personality he would either be President of the United States or the greatest criminal mastermind the world has ever known.

I was wrong.

I now think Josiah has the potential to launch a movement that can really change the status quo.

He has a deep love of music, and I think resonates with lyrics in a very deep way. On his wall in his bedroom is a painted tree, and for leaves, Josiah posts meaningful lyrics from songs he loves. He's not a "reader" like the rest of us. I think he's a lot more like his Oma than he realizes. He can be stubborn (like me) or playful (like his mom). And he's got two brothers who love him to pieces.

It's strange for me to think that the little chunk I held in my arms 17 years ago is a young man. At the time, I remember having this "a-ha!" moment as I realized that all the love I thought I had in me suddenly expanded with the addition of Josiah. Prior to that, the love I felt for my family was so intense, I just didn't think there would be room for more. Then Josiah was born and I realized my intense love had exponentially expanded - the flames grew brighter and hotter with his coming into our family.

I've only got 18 months left with him under my supervision. After that, it's all guidance and friendship. But I'm blessed to say that I really enjoy hanging around my sons. I like them as people - not just because they are my sons. And not everyone can say that. I genuinely enjoy hanging around Josiah. He enriches my worldview and pushes me to be a better man.

I can't wait to see what the next 17 years will bring. I'm incredibly proud and am excited to watch his character development trajectory continue to soar.

Happy Birthday, son! Your dad loves you.

My Birthday Wish Goes Public

Christy Tennant — Fri, 21 May 2010 00:00:00 -0700

My birthday was Monday, May 17, but the celebration of my birthday has become more of a season than a day. I am blessed to have a lot of really amazing friends, and we are celebrating with mini-parties of 2-4 people at a time, going out for dinner, seeing plays, going to museums, and more.

The first celebration took place on Thursday, May 13, when my friend Kara took me to one of my favorite restaurants in Staten Island, Adobe Blues. Then, Friday I was with relatives for dinner at Beyoglu, Saturday was dinner (Thai) and a play (Falmouth Theatre Guild's "The Secret Garden") and then drinks and live music at Liam Maguire's in Falmouth (Cape Cod). Monday was lunch with my co-workers at one of my favorite restaurants in Manhattan, Simply Pasta, and then dinner with my two NYC-based cousins at Persepolis, which was a replacement for our original destination, which was packed with a long wait. (This was a fortuitous change of plans... I found out about Persepolis from my OpenTable iPhone app, and it was a wonderful dining experience. Their homemade rose ice cream - yes, I said rose - was heavenly.)

There are several more gatherings to come, and I can't wait. (Though I do need to up the ante on my exercise routine... this is some serious eating I don't usually do!)

All of this is to say, I have had several opportunities to "make a wish," and this year I have done something I have never done before: I have used that moment to say to my heavenly Father, "For my birthday, I am asking you, King of the Universe AND my loving Father, for..."

Something very specific. Something that has been frustrating for me for some time, and He (and He alone) has the power to do something about it.

Want to know my wish?

Here it is.

I have asked God for husbands. That's right, husbands. With an "s." I have several friends who are amazing, beautiful, talented, nurturing, loving, emotionally healthy, professionally accomplished, women over 35 who want very much to be married. They are also devoted Christians who are not willing to marry a man who is not, likewise, a devoted and mature follower of Christ. But other than that one non-negotiable, these women are open to many possibilities.

These women are talented in many different ways, but all of them are fun, energetic, creative, loving, and into various activities like hiking, traveling, reading, cooking, entertaining, and more. And whenever I spend time with them, I think to myself, "you are such an amazing woman. Why haven't you been discovered by some man yet?"

I confess, I spent some time with one such friend recently lamenting the sad state of dating for Christians over 35. We blasted several men we know who are over 35, still single, claim that they want to be married, but seem to be holding out for 20-somethings who look like the woman in the Banana Republic or J. Crew catalog, are able to lead a Bible study, and don't mind that the guy has a wierd attachment to his mom and his XBox.

(We repented quickly, realizing that we were not edifying one another or treating these men with the love Christ has commanded us to have for them.) But it was around that time, when I was all riled up about how frustrating some of these guys are, that I realized that I needed to take this straight to God in the form of a specific request presented to Him (Phil 4:5-7).

So I did. I asked God for husbands. And then I got really bold and asked that He give these women husbands for my birthday before my next birthday.

I'll keep you posted here. And since I do believe that, when it comes to prayer, there is power in numbers, I welcome you to add your "yes" and "amen" to my request. One of the things I love about being in God's Kingdom is that you can pray in South Africa or El Salvador or England, and I can pray in New York City, and to God, it's like we're standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of his throne of grace.

Last post, I told you that I would be sharing about how my new "30 Stories You've Probably Never Heard" Bible reading planned rocked my world recently. And I will, but I'm afraid that story has to wait til the next post. I realized I needed to give you the set up first. So check back for how God used Numbers 11 to correct my attitude and encourage me to believe that He heard my birthday wish, loud and clear.

Letting Down Society

Abbie Smith — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 07:43:00 -0700

A gal I meet with for spiritual direction encountered her quarter-century-birthday last month. Unlike the celebratory session I might’ve guessed, however, it was exceptionally sad. In summary, she had distinct expectations for where she would be at this point in her life. And they were “far from her reality.”

Help me understand what you mean by that, I requested:

“I mean a lot of things…
I mean I’m not married.
I mean have no children.
I have a job, but not a stable, or steady one, and I’m not even positive I wanna keep it, or even stay in the field.
I feel close to my family in some ways, but also like I shouldn’t be, because I’m supposed to be a “grown-up” now.
I’ve never had sex.
I’ve never even had a real date.
I mean I’m a let-down to society.
I don’t know how to make a casserole, or bake a homemade pie.
I don’t know how do my taxes, or do laundry without messing-up clothes every few loads.
I don’t know what the point of me is—I’ve spent twenty-five years as something other than dust, but that’s all I feel like (dust).”
I have nothing to say for my two and a half decades. He/she/it gave me a chance and look what I’ve done for it—nothing."

Who is he/she/it again?

“Society.”

Okay, and what would it look like not let he/she/it down?

"I don’t know…I guess I’d know who I was and where I was going. I’d be married and have at least one kid and maybe another on the way. I’d own a home and meet with women in my neighborhood for book club. I’d understand finances and have balanced perspectives on life and God and money and all the stuff you’re supposed to know at my age."

Supposed to know?

"Yeah."

According to who?

"I don’t know. All the other people who seem to get it..."

When society is our authority, we lose before we begin. When the standard is an expectation, we’re defeated before the start-line. Nothing will ever be enough, no one will ever be our fulfillment, and no end will ever rest as our completion.

Until we have grasped that our dust-laden lives have been breathed to life and bathed in radiance, we will wander in search of societies standard. Until we have grasped that we are immovably loved, from the beginning, we will wonder in search of love’s attainability.

We cannot attain society’s standards, because society is not a being. It’s a false lover who will never let you be loved.

But God, who chose you from the beginning, and chooses you in this hour, calls you His beloved. You cannot let Him down. You cannot change His mind. And try, doubt, or do as you may, but you cannot change God’s love.

Where you are is where you're supposed to be.

I hope you'll be willing to let down society today. I hope you'll realize this new day has been designed for you...a new birthday to bring-out your life. And I hope you'll let yourself be celebrated, not because you’ve done something, or become something, but because you are Someone’s, and that Someone finds remarkable worth in your story today.

The Plan

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:51:35 -0700

I don’t know a lot about Iran, but when my husband, who works for an international development organization, told me that Ahmadinejad won I said, “Well duh. Of course he did. It was rigged.” As tensions continued to rise today and more allegations are thrown around that it was indeed fraudulent, I couldn’t help but think of “the plan.” The plan is this ambiguous idea floating around that our lives should turn out in a certain fashion. I learned at a young age that plans can shift and change quickly and frequently, so I created my own plan – one that relied on my own two shoulders. This worked for maybe a second and then life happened and the metamorphosis kept going. I’m not sure what the plan is in Iran, but there is one and it is a plan that wants to be imposed on its people.

Everywhere you go there are plans, but in some places those plans are to just make it though the day alive. You know a person grew up in a privileged home when it is expected that she or he live a long, productive life. The life checklist keeps growing and finally when you’re 60-something you can kick up your heals and, as my father recently told me, watch your blood pressure come down and get some sleep thanks to retirement. For a lot of people that was their plan too, but now retirement is no longer a hop, skip or jump away; it’s a marathon.

When our hope is put in the plan we are set up for failure. The plan is not worth living for. I celebrated a birthday last week and as I inch closer to 30, I am amazed at each year and how it holds nothing close to what I thought it would. I celebrated with a heart to heart chat with one of my best friends talking about this very thing and then the conversation continued into the weekend with a group of friends over pizza. How did we all buy into this plan and what happens when you’re life looks so different from it?

For my best friend, it is that time to “start trying.” She wants to be a mom so badly, as do a handful of women around me. She is at the point where her doctors have started bringing up fertility meds, but in her wisdom she said this to me: “What if my body isn’t supposed to? Then should I make it with pills? That scares me.” People are constantly bombarding her with questions of when are you going to have kids? And it makes her want to cry because she’d have one in her arms right now if it was up to her plan. It certainly is not a fair world, but apparently with enough money, privilege, celebrity or political prowess our “plans” can become reality, whether that’s a rigged election or thousands upon thousands of dollars of fertility treatments. It’s scary that the reality that could materialize naturally is being sacrificed on the altar of “supposed to” or “I deserve this.”

For my husband and I the question has morphed over the years from “when to have kids,” to “if we want kids.” I get accused of being selfish, not ready, and I’m also learning to deal with my favorite 2 responses: “Oh you’re young!” and wave their hand like I will most certainly come to my senses one day. Or the silent look of disbelief and shock, “Really? You’d be such a good mom.” I might not even get a say in this plan one way or the other, but my hope ultimately is not in the plan. My hope lives deep inside of me in the inner core of my being. This life, no matter who you are, is not one of having your cake and eating it too, but it is a good life.

I hate that “good” can be used to describe chocolate cake and God. Sometimes we need new vocab words, but God is good and if God lives in us, then there is goodness and richness in our lives; however that version of good might be found in cancer, in a lost election, or in infertility. God’s goodness comes to us when we listen, and often it is when we are talking so loud to change the plan that we are miserable.

I imagine, as I have a heard a few times that Ahmadinejad likes to hear himself talk. I understand that fertility meds have brought a lot of unique little persons into the world. I believe in the goodness of God and that “the plan” will work out for good, but I feel like sometimes we make God’s job a lot harder than it has to be by playing God or thinking that God is not truly good. Our hope has materialized in a plan and not in God. And I am certainly guilty of this too. My desire to not have kids is definitely part of “my plan” right now and some days I am holding on tighter to my plan than I ought to. I had a plan for college, for my career, and for my wedding – they all changed and had imperfections everywhere, but they were all good things. It is great to have a plan. I love sticky notes and planners, but when that becomes the gospel truth – I have major issues.

My hope today is that as I enter another year of my life, my grip on the plan will loosen. My hope for Iran is that the people will find their voices and justice will be sought through a non-violent approach. My wish for my best friend is that she will get pregnant without pills and be able to hold a little person soon who will bring her more joy and more pain than she ever knew existed. And I truly pray that we all realize God’s plan for our lives looks nothing like anyone else’s. We are unique; we are special; we are loved and this plan has way more to do with who we are than what we do and sometimes that is the only plan we need to know.

Turning 43: Midlife, No Crisis...

Joan Ball — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 08:46:15 -0700

I rarely cross-post pieces between here and my blog at Beliefnet.com, but I have a sense with this one that I am supposed to do it, so here goes...

I have a birthday that stops people in their tracks. An elder Generation Xer, I was born on June 6, 1966. Yup. 6.6.66.

People at motor vehicle and police officers stopping me for speeding (call me 'lead-foot') would take my identification, read silently, look up with the same playful-yet-mildly-freaked-out expression and say something like, "Whoa, 6.6.66, huh? That's some birthday." Kids, who were not so polite, would say, "Hey, is that carved on your head?" (The Omen hit the big screen when I was about 10.)

But I digress.

I could make this a quippy little post about an unusual birthday (no so unusual, since two others in my high school graduating class of 126 share it) or I could get to the heart of the matter.

Turning 43 is a little weird.

This may be true of all odd-year ages past 13, but I've never considered it until now. Three years past, "Holy &#@&, I'm 40" and seven years away from, "Is it possible I am 50?", 43 feels old and young at the same time.

On the one hand, I'm on the brink of completing a rather tumultuous but worthwhile shift of faith and life that involves new directions, new careers and new adventures. I am grateful for (so far so) good health, a great family, good friends and a growing sense that I can allow myself to accept that my body, my face and my outlook are changing in response to enduring more than four decades on the planet. Admittedly, some days are better than others, and my acceptance of the inevitability of growing older waxes and wanes. At 36 I considered Botox, but decided that I would definitely be the woman on the "Plastic Surgery Mishaps" show whose adverse reaction left her walking around with a lazy eye for 6 weeks; vanity's equivalent of The Scarlet Letter. So I abandoned the notion (for the moment) and am slowly allowing myself to grow into these lines and the effects of gravity on evening Chipwiches and Martin's mom's dulce de leche.

I'd love to end this here - all upbeat, confident 40-something ready to conquer the second half of her life - but there is another side to 43. I don't dwell on it. If I did, it might slow me down. That said, I cannot ignore that if this really was the second half of my life I would need to live to be 86. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But it is likely that this bike is rolling downhill and there is not a thing I can do about it. Sure, I can eat right and exercise. I can finally succumb to a little nip or tuck. But 43 is not 23 and time matters. This fact can paralyze or propel me. It can frighten or inspire.

Today I choose to be inspired. Today I choose to bound forward - younger, in many ways, then I was when I was a single mother with two children in my early 20s.

How about you? In your teens, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s or beyond... You only live once. What meaning does this day hold for you? How are you making this day count?