Here is my thinking lest you find this activity vain. When my son was two years old, my parents bought a little blue t-shirt for him that said “God Don’t Make No Junk.” It saddens me when I hear of people not willing to celebrate their birthdays. Perhaps it was a situation in their past that triggers that emotion. Perhaps it’s a too humble opinion of themselves. Perhaps they simply don’t like the attention.
But. . .
God made me. He had a good reason for making me. He celebrates me everyday. So, I feel I’m honoring God by joining in that celebration for one week out of the year.
My celebration started today. I spent it getting to know a new friend better before church, and then enjoying the pastor’s talk. Afterward, I went to a craft bazaar. I had invited my daughter-in-law along, but she’s been sick all week and didn’t feel she could be on her feet for that long. I was disappointed, but determined to continue my celebration of me by going alone.
However, while having lunch with my husband (celebrating both of us!) I thought about my friend Paula. During football season, her husband and three boys abandon her for the television set downstairs. She was more than willing to join me for fun Christmas craft shopping. And, her husband was more than willing to let her go since she had already complained (in a good natured way) about “quality time” on Sundays that excluded girlie stuff. When I called, he commented that I had rescued him, not her. LOL
Paula and I had a lovely time of chatting, oohing and ahing over sparkly jewelry and pretty scarves, and enjoying the Christmas music on this first day of my special week. We even bought each other presents. Well, she started it by paying for a scarf I was looking at and telling me “Happy Birthday”, so I returned the favor and bought her one, too—for her birthday in October! Belated presents are the best because they make your birthday last that much longer. Yeah, we’ll go with that.
So, the first day of Celebrate Me has gone very well so far. I intend to do fun stuff for the rest of the week. Go to movies, read books without feeling guilty that the housework isn’t done—I may even get a pedicure. Perhaps a massage! I don’t know what my week will bring.
For fifty-one weeks out of the year, I will devote my time to my husband, children, grandchildren, friends, organizations I belong to, my writing career, my church. But for this one week, my birthday week—when God said, “I will make Kathy, and she will be special because I don’t make junk.”—I Celebrate Me!
Me – Seven years old, my fave pic of myself as a little girl.
Me – A favorite pose that I performed regularly until I was old enough to realize how silly it was.