Some of you may have noticed that I had a birthday yesterday. Last year, I turned 30. I dreaded it while I was 29. Then, when the actual day came, I realized I kind of liked 30. Granted, there was that ginormous surprise party thrown on my behalf. That helped. But I also realized, as the days and weeks passed, that I finally sort of felt like a grown up. And I liked that.

This year has been different. I am sick, for one thing. And we are moving, for another. This one kind of crept upon me from behind while I was packing boxes and blowing my nose, tapped me on the shoulder and in a slightly annoyed voice said, “Hey. You’re 31 now.”

It seems like once you finally feel grown up, you should get to stop having birthdays. But they just keep coming. One after the other. Every single year. It isn’t as fun as it used to be.

One thing that did come from this birthday was a visit from The Nester. She has a name, which I won’t reveal, of course. It’s funny though…The Nester has kind of grown on me. I call her that a lot now when we’re together, especially when we’re talking house. And we talk house a lot. She helped me pick this out.
That one is in our dining room. She thanked me for letting her help me pick out light fixtures, stating it was the most fun she’s had all week. Or was it all month? The walls are svelte sage, for those of you who may wonder. We have six nights left until we move to the new old house. I think I’m ready. I still haven’t shown you the kitchen. I inherited some nice cabinets that I wouldn’t have chosen if it had been up to me. But we couldn’t replace them. So we’ve done some other things to make it ours. I look forward to posting about that.

But first I have to go pack up my current kitchen. And count the days ’til my next birthday. Or not.

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are little among the thousands of Judah, Yet out of you shall come forth to Me the One to be Ruler in Israel…And this One shall be peace.
Micah 5:2,5

It was last year about this time. I was driving and thinking, a rare moment alone in the car….trying to sort through the difference in my head between what was true and what was simply a product of my often over-active emotions. I was stuck in a dark place where the idea of the hope and joy of Christmas seemed to be an illusion at best. I had Christmas music on in the background and the second verse to this song struck me in particular.

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heav’n.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

And in that moment alone in my car, the reality of Christmas and the hope of all believers seemed to connect for me like never before. Because there was a real day when a real baby was born in a real stable from a real woman. And He was a real human and a real King who came to bring real life. So I celebrate the day He was born to die so that I might have life. Not just life forever with Him, but life on this real day, in my car, in the midst of my emotional rut…He offers me the choice of death or life, conflict or peace, hope or despair. Without Christmas, there would be no choice…defeat would be my only option.

What a beautiful thing to celebrate the birth of a King who offers so much, who is so much…to remember that from that little town that wasn’t even big enough to be included among the clans of Judah would come One who is called Peace.

As I continued to drive, it began to seem as though she was singing about me and not a little town called Bethlehem. Small, insignificant… yet among the sometimes dark streets of my soul shines His everlasting light. He chooses to be born in me, to reside in the manger of my heart so that life and peace are made available to me in limitless supply.

Ever feel like your attempts at something new are threatened by the fact that so many other people are not only already doing it, but they are doing it better? I was behind a car today with a bumper sticker that read “I run 26.2 miles.” Putting aside my initial confusion (Run? You run 26.2 miles? Like, as in right now? Present tense? Really?), my thoughts after reading this were as follows:

Wow. 26.2 miles. I wonder how far that is? If I started running right now, where would I stop and it be 26.2 miles? I could run a marathon. If I trained. How would you train for that? Where would I begin? How long would it take? Think of all the people who have already run marathons and who are (according to the bumper sticker) in the process of running marathons and how far behind am I already in being able to run a marathon so what’s the point?

And then the light turned green and I forgot about it.

I have no desire to run a marathon, let me assure you. But it has made me think. How many things in the world have not been done because people are afraid to start? What are we afraid of? That we won’t win the marathon? That we won’t be the best dancer ever? Write the best book ever? Be the best cook ever?

Or worse…maybe I’ll look stupid.

Or worse worse…maybe it isn’t that so many other people are doing it better, maybe it’s that no other people are doing it at all. And the idea of being the first is just too…much.

It’s easy for me to get stuck there…to forget that success does not necessarily lie in the outcome of the attempt. And I won’t even say it is found in the mere fact that I attempted it…because maybe my reasons for doing so were wrong in the first place. But the Lord, He has plans for me. Plans to prosper, to give hope and a future. Will I allow my fear of attempting something to hinder or delay those plans?

Here’s a newsflash worthy of remembering: I don’t have to be the best. And it’s ok to be the first. Because life isn’t about how I compare with you or them or myself, for that matter. And when its not about me, the fear seems to lose its power and life becomes a lot more fun.