Abundance

Last night, several friends gathered on short notice to celebrate my milestone birthday with me. My husband and another one of my dearest friends insisted until they finally wore down my resistance and I conceded. I'm glad that I did because as much as I tried to avoid having this gathering and being forced into the spotlight, it blessed me. In fact, I will still be basking in the memory of the evening for years to come.

The two party planners did an amazing job! The hosts created a welcoming oasis in their park-like backyard that could easily have graced the cover of any home and garden magazine. My sweetheart also worked at this project with unmatched enthusiasm and delight; running errands, making phone calls, and relishing the opportunity. Together they pulled no punches. As we share a mutual admiration of all things cake (www.communitycake.wordpress.com ) they even asked each guest to bring one. It was a cake extravaganza!

Once everyone had arrived, I took a moment to make introductions telling how I had come to know each person there. But as I reflect on those words now, they are grossly inadequate descriptions of the amazing individuals that I am blessed to have in my life. I wish that I could have taken hours to describe who each one of them is to me:

the constant friends who I have now known for more years than I didn't know them, with whom I have shared adventures too numerous to count...

the ones who drove well over an hour to be there last night, and also drove 15 minutes in the middle of a September night in 1995 to care for our son, while I labored with, and delivered our daughter...

the ones who drove nearly as far, despite debilitating health issues...

the ones who remained in contact over the years and over the miles, as we followed my husband's career across the country, so that our friendship never missed a beat...

the ones who make it a pleasure to go to work each day...

the friends who have quickly established their place in my heart and become part of the fabric of my life...

my Daddy who has always been in my corner cheering for me....

my handsome, teenage, nephew who I am told is sometimes surly but has never shown me anything but love and respect and who took the time to come and wish me well...

my own two teens who I have seen surly on occasion and have the privilege of watching grow into amazing individuals that I am thankful to know...

my sweet husband, with whom I share this privilege, and who is the salt in my life enhancing every part of it, making the journey more flavorful...

and all who have shared my laughter and tears, prayed with me and for me, opened their hearts and homes to me and mine, countless times, as well as graced our home with their presence.

Though there was an array of cakes, I barely touched them. What I really craved was more time to sit down and fill up on that buffet of beautiful friends that feed my soul. I am honored to have such abundance in my life.

40!

Besides being serenaded by many different voices using various arrangements of the standard, I have also been asked by several people over the last few days how I feel about being 40. I thought that the best way to address that question, is to blog about it.

Forty, so far, feels amazing! It's like life 4.0 (the enhanced version of my life at 20). In this season of my life, I am more at ease, more comfortable in my own skin, and beginning to enjoy the harvest of things that have taken years to cultivate. I wouldn't trade where I am now for anywhere that I've been so far (even if it included reclaiming my girlish figure). Every season of my life has held wonders that I would hate to surrender. This is good stuff.

I've also been told more than once that "it's all downhill from here." To this I reply that I certainly hope so! Riding up hill is the hard part. Down hill is just coasting... and there is usually a great breeze!

Celebrity

I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of Michael Jackson last week. Like millions of little girls who grew up in the 1970s I had a crush on the littlest member of the Jackson 5. I memorized every lyric and audible gesture on his Off the Wall album that dominated the eight- track player in my parents car. I watched in amazement as "the gloved one" effortlessly glided across the stage at Motown 25 introducing the world to the moonwalk. And, I squinted with one eye open at the horror that was Thriller. He was a spectacle to behold.

In spite of this, my grief doesn't stem from the loss of a childhood heartthrob or the realization that I will never again see his fluid movements grace a stage. In fact, my grief for Michael Jackson began long before the news announced that he had suffered fatal cardiac arrest. Deprived of a childhood and lacking a Godly foundation his life had become a slow-moving train wreck. The ongoing voluntary mutilation of his face provided visible evidence of a deeply trouble soul. I have grieved for Michael for a long time.

But now I grieve the fact that I was unable to tell my childhood friend that the metamorphosis that he sought couldn't be found in the hands of even the finest plastic surgeon on Earth nor by willing the "Man in the Mirror" to change. This transformation that he needed and longed for is found exclusively in the surrender of power, not in its pursuit, to Jesus. I grieve that he didn't experience the rebirth that is possible when one comes to know Christ as Saviour and Lord. I am saddened that Michael was unable to realize the unconditional love of his Heavenly Father, in who's image he was created. And I am incredibly saddened that the shallow, temporary, fame and fortune of this world are of absolutely no value to him in the end, no matter how many fans pay tribute to him now that he is gone, "for what does it profit a man to gain this whole world and lose his soul?" Mark 8:36