I haven't had to ask Trevor what he wants for his birthday this year because he's made his wishes clearly known to anyone who has ears and is within a five mile radius of him. He wants an iphone. He really really really wants an iphone.
He would be preaching on a Sunday morning and slip "when I get my iphone..." or "if I had my iphone, I could google that right now" into his sermon. Not so stealth. It will be a glorious day when that iphone appears in his hands. Mainly because I hopefully won't have to hear about it anymore.
At first I thought to myself, "that's never going to happen. I'm not paying $500 for a phone." Okay. I may have actually said that out loud.
But then the lord shone down His mercy from heaven in the form of a letter from our phone service provider. It went something like this: "You've received a credit to your account for $31.50. If you purchase a new phone, we will exchange this for a $100 credit to your account."
Oh sweet manna from heaven. So barring any unforeseen circumstances, an iphone will be his.
I think he may have had a spiritual experience while getting ready this morning, though. When he came downstairs he told me "I know what I want for my birthday. My microwave to be fixed (ours has been broken for two weeks now) and your immigration to be done."
"Wow." I replied. "Those sound like requests only God can take care of. You're going to have to ask God for those birthday gifts."
Then he said something that struck me. He said "I'm pretty sure that God doesn't care about birthdays."
Now I don't want to sound like one of those sentimental balls of fluff who imagines God donning his dollar store party hat (the one with the tiny rubber band that cuts into your chin fat when you wear it) decorating heaven with crepe paper streamers (I can imagine the angels daring each other to lick the streamers. They taste electric), and balloons filled with helium.
But I'm pretty sure he cares.
Every year when it's Aidan's birthday, I can't help but relive the events that brought us to that point. I warmly remember telling our friends we were going to have a baby, decorating his room, wondering what he would look like. I remember begging him to please, please hurry up and meet us already. I think back to the night he was born and the joy he brought us.
When Ainsley has her first birthday, I know Trevor and I will be doing the same thing; thanking God for our amazing, beautiful little girl and wondering where the past year has gone.
If I can't help but express joy and be overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of my children on their birthday, how much more must our heavenly father rejoice? I can see Him, fondly thinking back to the day He first thought of you. He looks at you with pride, thinking of the masterpiece He lovingly created.
I can see Him going through the various scenes of your life (like the family slide show nights we would have when I was a kid), looking at how far you've come over the years and how much you've grown in Him.
I can't help but think that God is a bit nostalgic. If you think I'm being sappy, get over it. Because it's true. I can't help but think that He loves us with everything He is. Which is immeasurable. Unending. Incredible.
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous--and how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God! They are innumerable!
For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so that we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.