Fifty! Wow. I woke with a smile and a cake hangover this morning and lazed around awhile recalling past anniversaries of the day I was born. I remember the one when I was ten and Mom made me an angel food cake magically filled with red jello – covered with whipped cream — served to ten giggling friends who stayed up too late playing truth or dare that night.
And then, fifteen years later, the 25th — when a friend said “live it up, the way you’re going, I doubt you’ll make to fifty” and we laughed, lit up smokes and took another shot of tequila..
Another 15 years passed and I was forty. The darkest birthday — ten years ago today when I sat in the same room I am sitting in right now, except the blinds were drawn and I didn’t want one more minute on this earth because how, God, could I possibly go on without Bo? Friends and family called and I did not answer the phone.
Just five short years ago, five months sober — raw and resigned to whatever came next — avoiding a party because I was pretty sure I would never party again. Ever. I have to laugh at the tears that are springing to my eyes, God — because HOLY CRAP…. what miracles — what gifts have I been blessed to count since that day?
The continued fervent without bounds love of my husband.
Friends who will call me on my shit.
A renewed love and reconnection with my family.
Eyes that see and ears that hear you in the world — especially in my brothers and sisters who suffer but keep coming back.
A community of people to pray with.
The gift of faith that there is something better for all of us
— and the grace to look back without regret though eyes of resurrection,
the knowledge that whatever I ask for will be given,
and the firm conviction that everything will be fine.
Here is what I am asking for today:
Help me stay powerless.