Yeah shawty, it's your birfday
Twenty-seven years
and suddenly the laugh lines
reveal a life lived ...
In the Bible, the number 7 is perfect. Also, God rested and sanctified the seventh day.
Today, the seventh day of January, was, for me, restful and perfect. In the year 2007, I am now 27.
Seven - I won't say it's the theme of the year for me, but maybe it sets a tone. I can't help but wonder what this year is bringing. I also can't help but believe that it will be good, bountiful, restful and hopefully, perfect.
I feel a faith and an optimism that this heart and mind have not yet touched. I'm just happy with whatever's going on, feelin' like I'm finally living it right.
All week leading up to today people have been asking if I have plans. It's a common question, I know, but I like to think that I am not common; plus, y'all know I don't really plan, and I'm okay with that. It ain't for erry'ones.
Some time ago I gave up on expecting people's expectations to mirror my own; I've also given up explaining myself and how much I really enjoy me, peace and quiet, not going out and being out, et cetera ... I am enough. This is a lesson I'm both teaching myself and learning day-by-day.
"You're not doing anything special for your birthday?!" co-workers inquired, their voices inflecting that unmistakably judgmental tone.
"I'm special everyday," I replied shrugging my shoulders. They thought I was just trying to be my typically funny self, but I didn't see any humor in such a statement.
(Just like Christmas to me isn't about gift-giving or receiving. Sure, there was a degree of laziness that kept me from entering the mall and emptying my pockets, but as I've gotten older and lived a lifetime of Christmases that were at best understated, I've realized that my granny was totally right. Every year when I was little and it was December I would enter her house and exasperated, I would wonder why she didn't just put up some kind of decorations, and every year she'd remind me that "Jesus is the reason for the Season" and that "If you're good to people year-round you don't have to worry about heapin' it all in one day.")
Since my birthday fell on a weekend, I had thoughts of what I should and could do. I thought about venturing up to NYC to see my peoples, all of whom are greatly missed. I thought about badgering Kim into coming up so we could actually spend our birthday together for once. I thought I'd go to the grocery store and round up the ingredients to satisfy a few recipes I've been thinking I'd try cooking. I thought about driving to Atlantic City to walk on the Boardwalk and try the slots -- just to see if seven was, in fact, perfectly lucky.
But as the day drew nearer I felt like doing what I felt like doing. Nothing spectacular, as I'm not one to do things spectacularly. Y'all know me. I keeps it low-key and I like it that way. Mags offered to bake a cake, but I was in the middle of bending over to pick something up and she said, "Maybe I shouldn't."
"Yeah Pot, maybe you shouldn't. It ain't like either of us needs a friggin' cake."
She is funny.
I actually woke up today in time to watch CBS Sunday Morning. I love this program. It represents continuity in my life -- it was always the first thing I remember hearing when I woke up as a little girl, among the rufflin' and snappin' of the Sunday paper in my father's hands and the gentle clink of pots and plates and pans as my mother prepared our breakfast. Charles Kuralt's voice was so distinctive. I don't even remember ever watching the show other than to spot his face and the face of the sun -- I've always loved the sun's many faces, smiling slyly in such a way that now makes me hear Maya Angelou gushing, "Good Morning," as she did in her famous inaugural poem.
Prior to CBS Sunday Morning I watched Joel Osteen. I have never watched him. Previously all his smiling made me wonder what in the world was he constantly smiling about. I knew he was smiling because God was in his life, obviously, but I still thought it was a little too much cheesin'. I mean, it's constant. He doesn't talk without it, and you know how smiling alters your talking voice anyways ... he kinda, not creeped, but bugged me out. Anyway, he was on this morning first thing, right after I said thanks to Mags "for giving me life!" and it was just like any other time I've gone to church and there the message was -- just waiting on me.
Today's message was: Making Plans to Live a Blessed Life
"God has placed dreams in every one of our hearts. We all have things that we’re believing for - believing to overcome an illness, believing to get out of debt or believing to accomplish a dream. The key is to go beyond believing and put actions behind your faith ... Make plans to be healthy, full of joy and productive right up to the day God calls you home."
It was just a light, effervescent touch to begin my day, and I won't allow the jokester in me to dismiss its value. I woke up smiling and there was Mr. Smiley smilin' right back at me and I just listened. He even told a joke that I'd just relayed to my Dad, which I took as a little wink from God to say, "See there." But his point, at least my interpretation of it, was to own your optimism. He talked about how downtrodden people become, expecting the worst instead of claiming the victory that is there for us. I thought about myself when he talked about how people often lament, "Well, if it ain't one thing it's another" when things go opposite as they'd hoped.
I'm not giving a sermon here, but it was a good beginning to a great day. A day I lived just as I wanted to and at the pace I preferred in the space God had carved out just for me.
And so I'm seeing this as a sign of the year to come -- a year for me to be on my own (again) and doing things as I want and in the space and at the pace that I want to do them. I feel really good about it all.