There’s an obligatory time for reflection around birthdays.
I’ve always thought it’s a little strange that the person who gets congratulated during a birthday is the person that had the least to do with it. Being born? Not like I should get a medal. That would go to my mom, who endured my embryonic tantrums for 9 months. Surviving my childhood and teens? Again, credit my parents, who managed to keep me fed, nurtured, and healthy for 18 (ok, maybe 21) years.
Since that time, I suppose I could give myself a pat on the back for making it to 44. But I can’t claim much credit. I would have starved to death without meeting my wife, who realized that a diet of chicken and rice every night would not help me live to see my fourth decade. I’ve been blessed not to be in a dangerous occupation that would endanger my life each day – not many musicians face live fire, or risk jumping out of airplanes, or face off against criminals while protecting the public.
So what’s the big deal about birthdays?
Of course, it all stems from gratitude. Birthdays aren’t a sign of accomplishment as much as they are an opportunity to reflect on what life on this earth really means. We all know the cliches about enjoying each day and never taking life for granted. But 365 earth-spins seems like a good time to reassess our level of gratitude. If we didn’t take moments like birthdays to look back, we’d be tempted to simply push forward without realizing what we’ve experienced. When I’m driving long distances, I like to see how far I’ve travelled to give me a sense of my progress. Those miles driven are behind me, yet they serve to push me forward knowing that each mile ahead will eventually be in my rear-view mirror as well.
And where, pray tell, does this journey lead?
I’ll spare you the litany of details about my future goals. We all have them. Dreams, ideas, bucket lists, our “eat – pray – love ” style of expectations that we’d like to pursue before our time on this bluish ball of busyness is complete. I’d like to think that I’m a much better man now, that I have a better sense of what I’m here for. As a dad, having seen our children grow to be wonderful adults has been one of the singular joys of my life. Learning how to love my wife properly, as I love myself, has been a two decade process, that, thank God, is still ongoing. Being a fulfilled artist who impacts the world one person at a time – well this goal is constantly changing and shifting into new avenues. But I’m grateful for the question marks of life. I’m glad I don’t have a singular answer to what lies ahead.
If you had asked the 17 year old high-school senior – the young man questioning his purpose, worried about becoming a father too soon, unsure of how his gifting and abilities would actually make sense in the broader sense of life – what his life would look like 27 years later, I’m pretty sure he would not have told you that I’d be writing this now.
He probably would have told you that he was a band director at a local high-school, maybe playing jazz in a hotel somewhere (that part was right), and being the best father he could be (although by then, my oldest son would be prayerfully have been out of the house anyway).
In other words, he would have had no idea.
Something the 17 year old me and the fortyish me have in common.
Question marks. Commas. Punctuations that require another statement in order to understand the meaning.
That’s the best description of what a birthday feels like. It’s a look back at what came before, laced with a healthy curiosity about what lies ahead.
Let’s see what’s next.
Leave a Reply