About once a decade or so, my birthday falls on Easter. It’s kind of like being a leap year baby, but with far less frequency.
The first time this happened was my 9th(?) birthday. It was also the day that my Father baptized me, so it was really really special.
The second time this happened, it was my 20th birthday. Which was nice, because 20th birthday are kind of–anti-climatic (in the States at least where being able to order a pint legally is still a year away). I really don’t have any idea what I did that day, except that I took a super cute picture with Jessie (Which I can no longer find!!! WAH!) and that it led to the epic quote from Julia (?) that “Jesus is going to steal Sarah’s thunder!”
I also remember looking at when the next time this would happen would be, realizing I’d be 31, and thinking that I’d be so old. (Excuse me while I laugh hysterically)
So I’m (almost) 31. And you know–I don’t really feel that much different than I did at 20. I’m married, I have carved out a very weird job(s) for myself, but…I don’t think I have life any more figured out now than I did then.
So tomorrow, I’ll rock crying babies (nursery volunteer for life) and think about how many many moons ago, my Dad baptized me. How many moons ago, I celebrated with amazingly good friends who are much further away now, but still epically amazing friends.
And I’ll think about how very very loved I am. By my friend and family, of course. But mainly by a good and glorious God who loves me in my brokeness. Cherishes me despite my sinfulness. Who constantly says “You, my daughter are loved. Just as you are. Fully and completely loved.” And I’ll sigh a deep sigh and smile.