I’ve been agitated all day today and I can’t shake it. I could shrug it off as the result of the sinus infection I’ve been struggling with all week. Though, if I think about it long enough I realize the root of the issue is that tomorrow is my birthday. Why should a glorious day be one of resentment than of celebration? The answer is simple even though I wish it wasn’t even a thing.
My birthday is a yearly reminder that as I get older and farther away from my childhood, I’m still drawn back to the little girl who just wants love and acceptance from her parents. Each year. I’m reminded that two of God’s most selfish people conceived a baby and that they didn’t love or treasure her, but rejected and discarded her. I’m consumed by sadness and heartache while I mourn for this little girl whose face looks like my youngest baby girl. I think about my own babies and wonder how on Earth could I possibly ever not love them!? No matter how much they challenge or frustrate me, there is not even an ounce of me that doesn’t want to be in their faces each and every day loving them, holding them, making them laugh, feeling their warmth, filling my soul with their sweetness and unconditional forgiveness for not being at my best each and every day. Despite how I got here, I am doing what God meant for me. I am a mama. I’m a flawed, crazy, loving, hot mess of a mama that would move Heaven and Earth every day for my babies. How in the world that isn’t the agenda for every parent is mind boggling.
Just as quickly as it comes, it will go and the feelings will subside again for another year. I pray for strength that the next will feel less overwhelming and as time passes, I’ll be able to let go altogether. Maybe shoving my face in a cake will help this year be a little sweeter.