Yesterday I forbade any reference to—or celebration of—my birthday in the morning. It was the Lord’s Day, not mine. More than that, it was Easter Sunday. I wanted the focus to be completely on Jesus and what he did for us on that most central day in the church calendar.
My family and church family mostly followed that counsel. During the pre-service church breakfast, somebody started a spontaneous round of “Happy Birthday.” I’m told they just couldn’t help themselves. After breakfast, we went to the sanctuary and had a truly special time of celebrating the resurrection of Christ with a whole lot of people in attendance—more than ever before in our church’s history. But it was moving to be there and rejoice in the empty tomb regardless of how many came.
Fought the fight, the battle won. Alleluia—the line we were singing as my mother-in-law went home to be with the Lord last December. It was tough to sing those beautiful words this year during the Easter service.
Anyway, not to be outdone, Samuel wanted to sing “Happy Birthday” to me, too, and his mommy caught part of his rendition on video. I was charmed, to say the least. We had a nice relaxing birthday celebration with family (and some friends who stopped by) early evening and into the night.
Given the precarious situation involving my conception and delivery, I’m just glad I was ever born at all. And because of Easter, I was born again.
Thank you, Jesus.
