My birthday falls on June 14th—the same day this blog falls due. Our lives are made of up a series of sometimes minor and sometimes significant dates. Because we’re the conscientious sort, most of us try to attend to the first type of date and pay attention without giving too much significance to the latter. I keep lists, for example, of things I should get to on any day—from sending an anniversary card to getting to an appointment.
I suppose I consider my birthday among the significant dates. (I’ve forgotten the dates of my graduations; I’d forget most other dates if I didn’t have them written down.) My folks always made a minor fuss about our birthdays: Mom made a cake on that day. Since my birthday fell in June, we often went on a picnic. I remember that the water was always a bit cold for swimming but I went in anyway.
As adults, we may feel that we should put away childish things such as caring about our birthdays. But I think that’s wrong. Birthdays, our own and those of others, affirm our importance. We are children of God. That fact puts our importance into perspective: we are limited, creatures, yet beloved. You might take some time today to mull over that status.
Win Morgan, OP