My birthday was yesterday. It was a bittersweet one. It started with my husband fussing at me. I tried to be patient and overlook it because the bear growls when he is awakened before he is ready. At work and on facebook tons of friends contacted me to wish me well. I looked forward to what the evening would bring when my husband would either take me to dinner or surprise me with some tidbit of his affection. I was extremely disappointed when I got home to find he had done neither, nor planned to do neither. His only response when I brought it up were excuses for why he just couldn't make it happen for me on that day, and he didn't make plans to make it up to me this weekend. I was very saddened.
All the way to work today and on the way home, I contemplated. I pondered. The beauty of yesterday were the people who DID tell me happy birthday. There were over 100 hits on my facebook page. Think about it. Over 100 people thought enough of me to stop what they were doing, even for 30 seconds and send me a quick message. It was touching. Some of my friends that I was closer to sent me pictures and memes, like little birthday cards. By the end of the night my daddy's aunt gave me perhaps the best gift.
"You are wonderfully and fearfully made" she quoted from the Bible. Psalms 139:14. The words from the Bible and her sweet message of how I reminded her of my grandmother, a true complement, touched me deep in my soul. They erased all the wrongs that I had felt.
I decided in the morning before I went to work that I would wash away the hurt from the day before. I still had a job to do, and was going to do it. Laundry is Love. I would still get up and put on my clothes and my make-up and say, "Today is another day. It's not my birthday anymore. The hurt is in the past." By the end of the day, my contemplation had me convinced I had made the right choice. I would continue in my labor of love, doing the little things without complaint. I would not let the hurt take me down, and I would not let the man hurt me again. It wasn't so much that I wasn't special, but that I wasn't special to him. And I wasn't going to let that hurt me anymore.
Tonight, he fussed at me again and said I didn't have any common sense. I told him simply that he didn't need to say that to me anymore. He still had a hot meal waiting for him when he got home.
"Do right" my grandfather always said. I'm doing right. I have peace about what I'm about. As for him, he tossed and turned all night last night, and his spirit is unsettled today.
Mother Mary, pray for him. St. Joseph, pray for him.
No comments:
Post a Comment