On Tuesday, I celebrated my birthday. Yep, Tuesday. Also known as Christmas! Me and Jesus.
People are always surprised when they hear my birthday is on Christmas. Why? I’m sure everyone shares their birthday with someone, but of course no one as important as God!
Now you know why I am adamant. I was meant to be a royal. In some ways, it makes perfect sense for me to share my birthday with The Most High.
Actually, scholars believe Jesus wasn’t really born December 25th, but rather April or September. While they may have several theories, one thing remains: Jesus, or rather consumerism, stole my birthday.
You might think at my age I’ve gotten used to sharing my birthday with the Almighty. I have. But I was born in a country where we celebrated Jesus on January 7th.
Before I moved here at the age of 11, I only had to share my birthday with my sister… high on my list of important people, but not as much as Yahweh. Her birthday is on December 2nd, so Mom used to throw us a joint birthday party. We thought it was great to celebrate together.
I went from having my sis as my birthday party buddy, to having my thunder stolen by the man who died for my sins. It’s no contest; HE wins!
At times it was a downer to not be able to throw a party on my actual birthday, or get many presents as everyone is always tapped out in December, but truth be told, I love having my birthday on December 25th. I didn’t always, but then I realized all the perks.
All but one year, I never work on my birthday (except I must admit I worked quite a bit this last one, but that was my own choosing). I’ve spent all but one birthday with my family, the most important people in my life, and those I love the most. They’ve only forgotten my birthday one year, my 14th.
The funny thing is I forgot it that year as well. I have a fantastic family and they do their best to celebrate me. Though this year I have yet to get an awesome dinner from my mom. Hopefully reading this will send the message since my nagging hasn’t.
This year was special in an entirely new way. My dad (who isn’t so keen gift exchanging and uses the argument some children don’t receive gifts at all and neither should we) asked me what I wanted.
I told him I wanted him to make me a bench that I can place under my window as I’ve always dreamed of having a window seat where I can gaze out the window and read. He was game. All I had to do was get him the measurements of what I wanted. You guessed it, this is where the story heads south.
I gave him the wrong measurements. Let’s just say 64″ isn’t the same as 6’4″. I didn’t realize my mistake until my parents brought over the wood to assemble in my apartment. Getting the wood up to my apartment was quite an ordeal. City living is not easy!
And then to realize the big pieces were a foot too long was enough to make me cry. Seriously, I cried. Fortunately, I have lovely parents who gave up another weekend, came over with a table saw the next Saturday, and fixed my mistake. Now I have the window seat I always dreamed of. How amazing are my parents?!
Maybe I don’t get a lot of attention on my birthday, but being born into this family is worth it. Sure, I always find my birthday gift under a dying tree, but the whole world celebrates me whether they know it or not.
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