The Birthday Table
Benjamin had the BEST birthday. He’s 2. He won’t remember it. (I took about 3,000 pictures that I will look at every 9th of April for the rest of time.)
He doesn’t have to remember the events of his 2nd birthday. Birthdays build. They are our stories’ punctuation marks. You stop one year of life, and start the next. Each year builds on the previous one.
Everybody’s got a story. If we don’t take time to reflect, choose or celebrate, our stories become one big, run-on sentence. It’s easy to lose meaning and direction that way.
When we got married, Chris told me we "didn't have to" do anything for his birthday. I cooly replied that he gave up his right to be un-celebrated when he married me. In my house, we are going to use birthdays to begin and end every year by valuing who a person is, celebrating what they like, and speaking life into them. We will write stories that see, know, love and celebrate. And we’re going to take a whole bunch of pictures.
I grew up in a house that celebrated birthdays for a week (minimum). Cards, cakes, gifts, flowers delivered to school - nothing was spared in the name of infusing our stories (and identites) with delight. My mom displayed tokens of the celebration on our kitchen table - sometimes for a whole month! Cards, flowers, ticket stubs, and whatever wasn’t eaten or played with remained proudly displayed. It always left the birthday girl feeling like a queen.
On Benjamin’s birthday, we had the kitchen decorated, balloons bopping, and a sugar-free, ocean-themed cake decorated by 6am. (We are morning people.) We called my mom on FaceTime to sing along for a breakfast birthday party.
The day was magical, perfectly catered to our sweet boy. Benjamin doesn't like to be the center of attention in a social setting like a party, but he does love, love, LOVE the aquarium. Chris took the morning off to go with us. Benjamin delighted in the presence of his daddy. He was elated to show him seals, sip coffees and a babyccino, look at stingrays, turtles, penguins and the daddy doo-doo-doos 🦈. We snacked at a playground and went to a toy store to pick out a new racecar from his grandparents. We called all our families in the US, and Benjamin learned how to use his new balance bike with his dad and brother.
I could see the delight building in him. It may sound silly, but I believe he received the celebration and honor that was intended for him.
Almost every night, when he wraps his arms around Chris’ neck at bedtime, we relish in the reality that Benjamin gets to grow up safe and secure, knowing he is loved. I pray he will know himself better because birthdays and other celebrations in his life will work like a heavenly mirror, helping him to see himself the way God sees him.
During Benjamin’s celebrations, my mom sent a video to us. She had created a birthday table with cards, gifts and a thrilling spread laid out for her grandson. I realized that it was her legacy of reckless celebration that shaped me so profoundly. Birthday months made me a better mom and helped me to believe that every person deserves extra exclamation points in their stories just for being who they are.
I couldn’t resist making a birthday table for Benjamin. Chris thought I was a little bit crazy, but he also didn’t want me to start crying because I missed my family.
Even though it has been cleared away now, Benjamin runs to that table every morning, pointing, dancing and exclaiming about the treasure that was on it. He remembers. Birthdays build.
How do you punctuate your stories? What legacies do you want to leave?
