AGGRIEVED
I knew this year was going to be a different kind of birthday celebration—the kind where we were quarantined. We usually observe birthdays in our house with some fanfare and a week-long celebration, a leftover from when B was gigging and traveling a lot. But this year, with mandatory isolation in place and all non-essentials closed to the public, our celebration would be modest. We’re not extravagant people, but I admit I was dispirited, aggrieved like I had lost something: no shopping to buy that one new birthday outfit, no new haircut and color, no date night out of the house, no friends, no chocolate party.
I’m a grown-up, I can deal with disappointment, and this pandemic will not last forever.
I’m a grown-up, I can deal with disappointment, and this pandemic will not last forever, I told myself every day leading to my birthday. Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to my birthday.**
Here’s the thing, we’re healthy and we want to keep everyone else healthy, too: slow the spread, flatten the curve, end the pandemic, and help those who in need. We have everything we need. I don’t need a party or a date night out. I don’t need a new outfit. I don’t need to be indulged. I said aloud to myself, most importantly, we’re together—B, the Girl, Monkey Boy, and me.
But still, it’s hard to let go of even simple expectations, especially when things change so rapidly. We’re all grieving our old everyday ordinary lives and celebrations, like birthdays and weddings, graduations and vacations, family reunions and even just meeting your friends at the local coffee house. It’s okay. We need to grieve. Grief is a natural response to loss. And we’ve all lost something.
But then God, the creator of the universe, in the midst the desperate and brokenhearted cries of the people around the world…
But then God, the creator of the universe, in the midst the desperate and brokenhearted cries of the people around the world, God gave me a beautiful birthday gift. That morning I was in my kitchen looking out through my large kitchen windows—the windows that span the entire northeast-facing wall, the windows that look out to a large raised garden bed, the windows where just outside I hung an old birdhouse last summer—and I saw a small black and white bird sitting atop the heavy-beamed garden trellis. She was looking at the old blue and white birdhouse and listening, I’m guessing, for occupants. I whispered to the kids, “Look, a bird. I think she’s going to go into the birdhouse.” They tiptoed to the window next to me. After a couple of minutes, the black and white bird jumped to the birdhouse perch and poked her head inside the small entry hole. We stood still, holding our breaths, waiting to see if she would go inside and find it an acceptable place to lay eggs. She went in. After a twinkling, she hopped out and flew off. We exhaled.
It was just a moment. But an awe-some and humbling moment. It was a simple and beautiful gift. And then I remembered:
“Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?” (You can find this quote in The Bible’s New Testament, Matthew 6:26.)
We will get through this. We will, with God’s help because we are worth it. God said so.
**Just in case you’re wondering how my birthday turned out: B fixed breakfast for all of us. Later that day we all went for a drive in the car to get take-out pizza at a drive-up pizzeria window on the other side of town. After we ate, we played a board game and laughed until our bellies hurt. After that, B and the Girl found some half-burned sparkler birthday candles in the kitchen junk drawer and set them aflame on a child’s birthday cake that B picked up at the supermarket last week when he was looking for flour and sugar. I then opened handmade birthday cards and talked to my parents for a long time on the phone. It was not the birthday celebration I expected, but it was pretty much a perfect day.