That Perfect Day

 

As my sixtieth birthday drew near, so did tension between celebrating life and hiding behind latest edition of AARP Magazine. A tug-of-war in which only one can win. When we placed our 2014 calendar on the wall, I quickly flipped through the months, searched for the date, promptly asked for the day off at work. I cannot work on my sixtieth birthday! Through the ensuing year I racked my brain to come up with a perfect adventure, something out of normal routine, daring even. And every time I thought of just the right activity, the perfect adventure, a blissfully relaxing spa, a part of me erased the plan like a child holding one of those black chalkboard erasers, takes an elongated swipe. I sneezed through haze of dust as all those perfect adventures disappeared, my mind drew blank. So I began again, this crazy search for commemorating sixty years of  life, of taking a zillion divergent breaths. While ruminating about getting it perfect, about staring into the golden years with smudged lenses, somewhere in midst of this mental tugging fest, the crazy beautiful found me; ushered me right into the next chapter.

 A number of days before my birthday, I received a piece of mail from South Dakota. Real mail, with a stamp. Pulling out white sheet of paper tucked inside a birthday card, my friend's beautiful cursive handwriting penned her greetings, on both sides of the paper. I read it three times. Slow.

Co-workers shared love, gifts and surprises, sprinkles of joy brushed my desk, my heart. Thoughts of my perfect adventure began to take hold of me, a full moon illuminating the way, the glittery stars nodding in assent. Jesus, His heart pinging cacophony of approval and I laid it all down. The angst, the fear of the number of days I might have left, am I doing enough, it faded, bowed down to perfect now. And I pocketed the time already lived like a child fingers treasured last bite of candy tucked deep down inside material, savoring what's left.

 

  

 

We drove on that perfect day to Hood River, walked slowly through gardens, bathed in favorite scent of lavender, and the breath it expelled out happy all over glorious field. We snapped pictures, leisurely, joyfully. Click, click, click. We found a local bookstore, browsed through beloved books, touching the covers because I could, marvelous smell of creativity wafted throughout the store, followed me out the door.

There was more to follow after that perfect day, more than I could have orchestrated, more than I could have planned or purchased. Celebrating with family and friends, community which often scares me but on that other perfect day, Gratitude ransomed all my angst over growing older, over performance and perfection. Slipping on a new pair of lenses, sight now sharp and clear, the tug-of-war was over.

 

 

And I knew that this outrageously, courageous attitude that sings me joy, will surely, truly, grant me more Joy in next years to come. For on that other perfect day sitting on beautiful table waiting to be received, a gift to behold and He winked at me grand.

 

 

Joy, unspeakable joy, it rises in the soul, it never lets you go,

 on any given day.

 

Thank you.