I'm in the middle of the annual running of the fall gauntlet. It's like this every year. I love it as much as I'm always exhausted by it.
It hurts so good. Take my birthday for instance. I warned Lia as it was approaching. We'd just have to fit in the celebration where it fit. We ate cake for breakfast the day before the actual day. We still haven't opened presents. The actual day of my birthday (last Tuesday) I attended some meetings. Got some writing done. Played with the kids. Listened to my parents sing me happy birthday on the phone. Went to Dave Dave's back to school cocktail party. Hung out with my bro, Kyle. Then, played some night ultimate with a bunch of college friends. A perfect Ned-kind-of-day. All these people. All these relationships.
Most didn't know it was my birthday.
Then, it altogether hit me: that's why birthdays are so awesome. We celebrate folks for just the fact they were born. For who they are, not what they've done…
To be loved that way.
It is the perfect way to be loved.
The fact I have a hard time receiving this kind of love points to something deeper going on inside me. Maybe I think myself unlovely. Maybe I feel like I need to be something more than I am to be of value. Maybe this all translates into how I see my relationship with others, with God.
What if I thought differently? What if I thought that I could be loved just for being Ned? Not that would be something to celebrate…