Birthdays. I had one WAY back on Wednesday, December 13, 1967. I hear it was pretty great, but I don’t remember much about it.
When I was a little girl, I loved celebrating the anniversary of that day. When I was a big girl, I loved it even more. But this year, I dreaded it. A LOT. I wasn’t anxious because I’m afraid of growing old. I was apprehensive because I was gifted a year that I didn’t deserve.
You see, my extraordinary sister-in-law was supposed to turn 57 in October, less than two months before I would, but it didn’t happen. She will never be 57. Twenty-two days before her 57th birthday, her body stopped dying and her heavenly life started. Her work on earth was done, and that beautiful, young soul is now ageless and celebrating EVERY day in Paradise.
Because I tend to cling to limited, earth-blinders, I prepared for my 57th birthday to strangle me in a warped type of survivor’s guilt. While Trayona was sick, I asked God numerous times if I could trade with her. I know I’m loved and appreciated here on earth, but I’ll be honest: Most days I tend to barely survive rather than live vibrantly in my calling. On the contrary, Trayona lived well and spent every single day striving to mold herself into a better person. She deserved life so much more than most of us.
(To my concerned armchair therapist, I know truth. I trust God’s will. I love my people, and I know I am loved by lots of people, which I realize is a gift in itself. Moreover, I know Trayona is the real winner in all of this, and that trading with me would mean I would now be living in glory and she would still be fighting through this challenging existence on planet Earth. But unreasonable feelings are really hard to fight, aren’t they?)
I would love to tell you that a moment of revelation or a Bible verse shined brightly on my 57th birthday, morphing me into a much wiser person. That didn’t happen, but it was a nice day full of lots of love and affirmation, and when I laid my head on my pillow that night, I felt thankful.
What does it mean to me to be granted one more year on planet Earth? It means my work isn’t done. It means I am still needed here and I still have things to do, people to love, and hope to spread.
And apparently, you’re still here too, so guess what? You have things to do, people to love, and hope to spread.
Flying Pigs 