Birthday Presence

Today I am fifty-five. Seems strange to write it; to see it in print. How is it possible?

I am the same age as my stepmother was when she moved here to be with my dad; as my mother-in-law (in heart) was when I first met her; and as my mother was when she got her lung transplant.

Birthdays cause me to reflect on my life, where my journey has taken me, and to marvel at the irony, excitement, and speed at which it passes.

Most importantly, it has me counting my blessings and the gifts in my life. I sat at the end of the table as hubby walked towards me with my favourite vanilla cake ablazing (adorned with NASCAR rings -- the only white cake they had) as a table-full of loving souls serenaded me.

I blew the dust off this neglected blog and gave myself a gift. I've missed my blogging, my search for the "take away" and gift in each day. My daily posting used to help me reset my compass, tell myself that which I needed most to know, and express myself.

At fifty-five I am disease-free - a little stiff and inflexible, but not on any medications stronger than the odd Advil. Added bonus - a pair of muffin toppers that defy camouflage and saggy bits on my face that don't defy gravity.   I have good friends and a huge loving tribe. I share myself with a kind, deeply caring man, have a job that is meaningful and fulfilling, and learn something new every day.

I am living the life of my choosing; of my own desire. It has provided adventure, taken me on detours, delivered surprises, and pushed my boundaries. It's been a physical stage for my spiritual development, providing me with the circumstances and challenges to teach me what I need to learn.

I appealed to my loved ones to donate to Good Hope as gifts and they all came through in spades, including my work family. I love that they so willingly support an organization that means so much to me, simply because it is so.

So today, on my birthday, my heart is full of gratitude for the privilege of growing old (a privilege not bestowed upon all) and I resolve to continue to squeeze every drop of living out of each day.

It's the very least I can do.