Neen's Birthday
July 8th 2008 15:12
I am 33 today. With my old friends there were many a joke about blue soup, congealed green gunge and orange marmalade being the fare of the 33rd (followed by a real fight between one very bad man and one human rights lawyer over the birthday girl).
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However this was not what occurred.
After being awoken for breakfast in bed (Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast, with tea) and presents by the husband and kids, and a leisurely morning, my son went to daycare, albeit reluctantly and with the hugest pout, crossed arms and furrowed brow you will ever see on a two year old, and only after we had shooed the two ducks that were waddling around on my driveway when I was trying to reverse the car... only in Woronora.
Daughter and I then shared cheese jaffles, pineapple juice and sandpaper, in preparation for the "bubblebath" paint that's going on her walls. I like painting, but I really hate the preparation. All that masking tape and dusty drop sheets.
After a bit of "Paheli" with Rani and Shah Rukh,
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and some Diver Dan on the ABC,
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we had done much of the prep, and I was exhausted. A nap, followed by 45 minutes of soaking, scrubbing and masking, then 30 minutes of Neighbours, had me primed as the walls.
We went to our local restaurant, Thai Peninsular, and discovered Prawn Cakes with Plum Sauce (the closest thing that came to marmalade), Rama Sunrise and Siam Chicken, as well as beef in Pad Thai. Delicious. Chased with fried icecream, and marinated in the contents of one Pink picollo, it was a satisfying evening and a lovely way to spend my birthday. I was even given a birthday hat by the owner, which I intend to wear whenever I go kayaking with my present.
This birthday was one I had anticipated for a long time. Bridget Jones had become sort of an icon amongst my friends and I. Mostly because she ended up with Mark Darcy/Colin Firth. But also because she epitomised much of who we were. Terribly insecure in our relationships with the men in our lives, hungry for the advice of others, feeling vastly incompetant in our professional lives, maintaining odd relationships with our parents, and tightly bound in undergarments "popular with grannies the world over".
But it was a few years ago when an old friend died that I began to feel differently about myself. He was someone who I had adored from the moment I laid eyes on him, and thought he was the perfect guy. I was completely infatuated with him for years.
I remember him once saying he'd marry my friend if she got him tickets to see Guns'N'Roses, and I, in front of many witnesses, asked him finally if he had ever liked me as I had liked him. His initial response was, "I don't think I did, Jeannine". This was followed about half an hour later by a joke where the punchline involved a person going to a Chinese (excuse me, but this guy was not very PC... he was from Camden, after all!) doctor, and being told they had Zachary's Disease ("Your face is Zachary like your backside"). After that I got the hint and relinquished all hope of ever having a relationship with this person. A point I now thank God for. He was a bit of a doorknob... everyone had had a turn, including my three closest friends.
Some time later I met and married Rich. It was one week after my 20th Birthday that we began our relationship. But it was only weeks after this old love interest had died that I made the realisation of how blessed I was.
I used to measure my self worth by how others thought of me. If they rejected me, then I was worth nothing. If my behaviour or attitude, or unattractiveness meant someone didn't want to be my friend, I was devastated. A hangover from a childhood of conditional love, I guess. I thought there was something wrong or unworthy in me that stopped that love.
But after his death, I suddenly realised how grateful I wasn't chosen as one of the many in the line of girlfriends this guy had, or as one of the gang of friends who would get up to no good. This fact set me apart from so many others. And it wasn't due to my head being Zachary like my backside, after all.
I had been chosen by two people who measured my worth so differently to every other person in my life. They weren't out to get what they wanted or needed from me. I wasn't the best option at the time, or the sober, serious one to be the designated driver, or the last resort friend who was the best of a bad lot. I wasn't chosen for what I could give them. I was chosen for what they could give me.
The first one was God. Before the world was made, he chose me to be his child, and he set me apart for his purpose. It wasn't because I was smarter, nicer, prettier, wealthier or more popular than anyone else. In fact, it was clearly the opposite. Life and the Scriptures have taught me that God chooses the weak ones, so that his glory is shown more brightly. Through people like me, there is no doubt that God is at work, because there is nothing I do that is special or unique or more beautiful than anyone else is doing. God takes my mediocrity daily and works in and through me, sol he gets the glory.
God certainly chooses differently than I do. I wouldn't choose to love someone like me. I am like the fish that John West rejects. I am the last picked loser. Yet God chose me. And seeing he is the creator and sustainer of the universe, and those who didn't choose me are not, I feel pretty special. Humbled, but special in a bullet-proof sort of way. Whatever anyone says of me, I am secure in the knowledge that I have a Father in heaven who chose to love me, and who will never stop doing that. It is totally against his character to stop loving.
Rich also chose to love me. I have been blessed with a marriage with the most gracious, loving, gentle, strong, trustworthy man on the planet. He is my Mr Darcy, but better. He is flesh and bone, soul and spirit, and all heart. His love, like God's, blows me away. He loves me, like God, with a full awareness of who I am and what I am like. He chooses to love me despite that.
Really Long Link
Unlike the dead guy, he chose me. I was the same person, but Rich chose me, and the other didn't. Instead of seeing this as a measure of my worth, I began to see this as a measure of theirs. Rich chose me specially. I wasn't one in a long line. He had other "options", but he chose me. The other guy chose not to tack me onto the list. In this is my worth. When I realised that, I stopped grieving for what could have been (a disaster... which God mercifully prevented), and began being in awe of this man who loved me as God loved me. Totally, unconditionally, consistently. How blessed am I?!
And my dead friend is blessed too, as he is face to face with love, right now. God chose him, too.
So on this 33rd birthday, like Bridget, I am amazed that I am a woman who is loved, "Just as she is". It is a very happy birthday indeed. Even without congealed green gunge and Colin Firth at the dinner table.
Really Long Link
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However this was not what occurred.
After being awoken for breakfast in bed (Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast, with tea) and presents by the husband and kids, and a leisurely morning, my son went to daycare, albeit reluctantly and with the hugest pout, crossed arms and furrowed brow you will ever see on a two year old, and only after we had shooed the two ducks that were waddling around on my driveway when I was trying to reverse the car... only in Woronora.
After a bit of "Paheli" with Rani and Shah Rukh,
Really Long Link
and some Diver Dan on the ABC,
Really Long Link
we had done much of the prep, and I was exhausted. A nap, followed by 45 minutes of soaking, scrubbing and masking, then 30 minutes of Neighbours, had me primed as the walls.
We went to our local restaurant, Thai Peninsular, and discovered Prawn Cakes with Plum Sauce (the closest thing that came to marmalade), Rama Sunrise and Siam Chicken, as well as beef in Pad Thai. Delicious. Chased with fried icecream, and marinated in the contents of one Pink picollo, it was a satisfying evening and a lovely way to spend my birthday. I was even given a birthday hat by the owner, which I intend to wear whenever I go kayaking with my present.
But it was a few years ago when an old friend died that I began to feel differently about myself. He was someone who I had adored from the moment I laid eyes on him, and thought he was the perfect guy. I was completely infatuated with him for years.
I remember him once saying he'd marry my friend if she got him tickets to see Guns'N'Roses, and I, in front of many witnesses, asked him finally if he had ever liked me as I had liked him. His initial response was, "I don't think I did, Jeannine". This was followed about half an hour later by a joke where the punchline involved a person going to a Chinese (excuse me, but this guy was not very PC... he was from Camden, after all!) doctor, and being told they had Zachary's Disease ("Your face is Zachary like your backside"). After that I got the hint and relinquished all hope of ever having a relationship with this person. A point I now thank God for. He was a bit of a doorknob... everyone had had a turn, including my three closest friends.
Some time later I met and married Rich. It was one week after my 20th Birthday that we began our relationship. But it was only weeks after this old love interest had died that I made the realisation of how blessed I was.
I used to measure my self worth by how others thought of me. If they rejected me, then I was worth nothing. If my behaviour or attitude, or unattractiveness meant someone didn't want to be my friend, I was devastated. A hangover from a childhood of conditional love, I guess. I thought there was something wrong or unworthy in me that stopped that love.
But after his death, I suddenly realised how grateful I wasn't chosen as one of the many in the line of girlfriends this guy had, or as one of the gang of friends who would get up to no good. This fact set me apart from so many others. And it wasn't due to my head being Zachary like my backside, after all.
I had been chosen by two people who measured my worth so differently to every other person in my life. They weren't out to get what they wanted or needed from me. I wasn't the best option at the time, or the sober, serious one to be the designated driver, or the last resort friend who was the best of a bad lot. I wasn't chosen for what I could give them. I was chosen for what they could give me.
The first one was God. Before the world was made, he chose me to be his child, and he set me apart for his purpose. It wasn't because I was smarter, nicer, prettier, wealthier or more popular than anyone else. In fact, it was clearly the opposite. Life and the Scriptures have taught me that God chooses the weak ones, so that his glory is shown more brightly. Through people like me, there is no doubt that God is at work, because there is nothing I do that is special or unique or more beautiful than anyone else is doing. God takes my mediocrity daily and works in and through me, sol he gets the glory.
God certainly chooses differently than I do. I wouldn't choose to love someone like me. I am like the fish that John West rejects. I am the last picked loser. Yet God chose me. And seeing he is the creator and sustainer of the universe, and those who didn't choose me are not, I feel pretty special. Humbled, but special in a bullet-proof sort of way. Whatever anyone says of me, I am secure in the knowledge that I have a Father in heaven who chose to love me, and who will never stop doing that. It is totally against his character to stop loving.
Rich also chose to love me. I have been blessed with a marriage with the most gracious, loving, gentle, strong, trustworthy man on the planet. He is my Mr Darcy, but better. He is flesh and bone, soul and spirit, and all heart. His love, like God's, blows me away. He loves me, like God, with a full awareness of who I am and what I am like. He chooses to love me despite that.
Really Long Link
Unlike the dead guy, he chose me. I was the same person, but Rich chose me, and the other didn't. Instead of seeing this as a measure of my worth, I began to see this as a measure of theirs. Rich chose me specially. I wasn't one in a long line. He had other "options", but he chose me. The other guy chose not to tack me onto the list. In this is my worth. When I realised that, I stopped grieving for what could have been (a disaster... which God mercifully prevented), and began being in awe of this man who loved me as God loved me. Totally, unconditionally, consistently. How blessed am I?!
And my dead friend is blessed too, as he is face to face with love, right now. God chose him, too.
So on this 33rd birthday, like Bridget, I am amazed that I am a woman who is loved, "Just as she is". It is a very happy birthday indeed. Even without congealed green gunge and Colin Firth at the dinner table.
Really Long Link
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