The name given to me at birth — either by the nuns, my birth mother or my adopted mother (they all had a different story) – means “Reaper” or “She who harvests.” No matter who bestowed the name, I have always said, when asked what I harvest/reap, “I collect people.” Not in the weird, creepy soul-collecting way of the horror genre of film and television, but in the “YOU could be my friend” way.
Today, was my birthday. While I didn’t have a big blowout celebration (in fact, I was told to my face that the pizza brought into work wasn’t for me, but for a departing co-worker) – I did have a wonderful cache of candy, flowers, balloons and on-line greetings from well-wishers. Not just well-wishers, though – people I genuinely adore and care about. My heart squinches from not only the outpouring of eHugs I received, but the emotion I feel for each name that scrolled across my cellphone, email and social media platforms. Each sumptuous morsel of a message rolling across my tongue as I read it aloud, tasting the sweetness that accompanied each phrase, no matter how brief.
Some of the messages spoke of how wonderful everyone perceives my life to be. Well, isn’t that cuuuute? But, it’s wrong. My life has plenty of rocks, burrs and sadness – but I have my attitude saddle buckled in such a way that I really do try to just “ride out” an awful lot of the… well, awfulness (and trust me, there’s plenty) and I try to do so with a bit of grace and humor. I have said over and over and I mean it, “It’s all about the story.” I also say, “I cannot make this crap up!” because I’m constantly amazed at the slimy curveballs that life manages to lob at me. But, at the end of my day — I am able to tell those stories and I’m so happy that I get to share them with a most delicious audience of people. People I absoultely love and admire (for a multitude of reasons).
The garden of family, friends and acquaintances that I pull from is a most incredible crop of people. There are the ones that speak from the heart; plenty of others who shoot from the hip; and some who (truth be told) just seem to snort through their hineys. But, each and everyone helps to create a world that is colorful, complex and yes, at times, downright cruel. Still, I’m very aware that the greatest stories in history contain each of those elements, so I consider myself in pretty good company and don’t for one hot second (no matter how blistering the heat) feel sorry for myself. I consider myself fortunate. I get to learn, I get to grow and I get to move forward — now and again looking back to see how far I’ve come.
The birthday itself… is the best gift of all.
I am so grateful for birthdays, because no matter how I do (or don’t) celebrate them, they serve to remind me how fortunate I am to have received my calling shortly after arriving on this big blue marble and I have no intention of falling short of my task, until I’m done. With any luck, the growing season will be long and my time to reap/harvest will be, too.
Thank you for all of the birthday wishes, sweet friend. I am so lucky to have you in my garden.
xo – t.
“For the unlearned, old age is winter; for the learned it is the season of the harvest.” – The Talmud
“A birthday is just the first day of another 365 day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip.” – Unknown
“What matters in life, is not great deeds, but great love.” – St. Therese, the Little Flower
“Success is like reaching an important birthday and finding you’re exactly the same.” – Audrey Hepburn
“You must give to get. You must sow the seed, before you can reap the harvest.” – Unknown
“He that has a good harvest must be content with a few thistles.” – Spanish Proverb