Happy Birthday to me
I don't usually mention my birthday on the blog. Largely because, since I am not really one for throwing parties for myself, and my family doesn't live in Sydney, sometimes there is actually nothing to say about it.
(I did decide I should get my act together last year when it fell on a Saturday, so I had a little party of sorts, which was mostly an occasion to invite some folks from church I had wanted to ask over, but only as many as could fit in my loungeroom and feasibly (and willingly) recite a poem in one evening. Even so, it meant I then actually spent the day by myself cooking and cleaning and getting ready. It turned out to be a very pleasant evening, but I thought 'well I don't have to do it every year do I'.)
All that aside, this year I had to mention said birthday, because, to my great amazement, my mother MADE me a cake! Look at this! I can't even remember the last time I saw my Mum knitting, and she is not an especially "crafting" sort, but she said 'I know you like handmade things' (I might actually need to be careful who I go around saying that to) and so made me this. I still can hardly believe it. And I am touched.
She did use a crochet rose that I originally sent to her to decorate the top of it, you might notice.
The truth is, often I don't actually really like my birthday. It arrives like a reminder of how painfully disappointing life is, and of all the things I have failed to be, gain and accomplish. But last night we had a sermon on Colossians 1:15-29, and were challenged to be "satisfied in Jesus" and joyful and secure in what we have in Christ. So, today I shall attempt not be melancholy, and instead remind myself that Jesus is enough, and be thankful (not least because I have a mother who knitted me a cake!).