Many years ago during this season someone special was born. That person’s life would not be easy. There would be hardship and pain, disappointment in friends and family. There would be times of deep prayer, temptation and sadness. The feeling of being a pariah in a crowd, not being understood and desperately holding on to faith with strength born of few. This amazing person would travel to other lands, and return to the land where the birth was recorded. How does one celebrated that special birthday? How does someone as simple as I am make that appreciation known? I have spent years contemplating what such a person means to me in my life. I have felt the love, I have known the anger, I have felt the disappointment. I have what I feel is a deep connection that few can know, and I am vulnerable; for almost no one knows my weaknesses and strengths with the same intimate knowledge. Upon analysis of my life, I know I haven’t shown my full potential and there is so much more I could do to show my appreciation, and yet, I do not.
Every day I am determined to do something that will reflect my love and faithfulness and devotion. Every day I somehow fall short. I speak with sharp words instead of love, or perhaps become angry, when I am cautioned patience. These are not easy emotions for me to master. I had grown used to the harshness of life, to its storm upon me, and while the storm raged, I raged with it. The louder it became, the more I drove myself to howl above its chaos. It was a contest I could not win, and one that would eventually destroy me and make me an angry bitter husk of what I could have been. But a hand reached out to me and the waters that roiled my soul calmed, and the howl that was within me was let free before it could consume. I was placed upon a different path, the pattern broken; I took a renewed strength as I stumbled toward a greater light, a new dawn. A throne was offered to me, and the crown of thorns I made for myself was taken away, it was not for me to wear, I had a greater calling in life than the illusion I lived with, my sanguine downfall was not to be. I learned to love the one I held so dear. How could I ever repay such a debt?
When I am touched, I feel it to the core of my being. I can feel the presence and it makes me yearn for more even as I step further away. As the world distracts me and pulls me into the vortex of needs and wants, as I strive to do more with the pitiful talents I have, and even as I fall to my knees at times, I am buoyed by a presence that was prepared for me before I was born, whose destiny is now intertwined with mine. How could I not love enough? How could I, in moments of anger be so spiteful and forget all that was given to me?
So on this day, the day when the presence broke through a wall of spirit, and opened into this world I am most grateful for the mortal closest to me in all the world. My loving wife Kris whose birthday is the 20th of December. She who has, without knowing it, displayed the Christ like love and beauty to keep me sane and whole during my deepest trials. Whose patience with my arrogance, whose subtle strength guides me even as she believes me to be the most stubborn of stones. Who knows my pain, even as I lash out, who bites her tongue rather feed the flame. Who also sometimes has moments of weakness, but oh those moments are so few compared to mine. She who’s eye remains keen upon the goal of eternity even as the world beckons us to partake deeply of its tainted fruits. Her determination, not always so gentle when shared with the yoke of who I am, has always allowed us to plow forward in the right direction. In the many years we have been together I have thrown up walls of silence feeling unappreciated and imagining us at times to be strangers, she persevered. She never lost hope, she never lost faith in us. It wasn’t until later that I appreciated the pain and disappointment she dealt with so bravely as I strove against the storm. It wasn’t until later that I realized what a harbor she provided, always open and beckoning. Our eyes grow dim now, the years do take their toll upon the mortal frame that encompasses the fire within. But that dimness gives me clarity. How can I stand by her and not be moved by her. Her beauty, enhanced by the two daughters and son she has given to me, is all that I need in this trifling and leaden life. We swore ourselves to each other in the holiest of places, and that love remains true, another could not hope to fill the part of me she now possesses so lightly. My soul is lightened in her smile in a way that would make a Michelangelo’s Madonna weep in envy. Her kiss still fires the passion like no other woman can, and her praise is the only gold standard I care to hold where this mortality is concerned.
So what do you give such a precious thing on her birthday? I once thought to give her the world, but the world is cheap when compared to what she has given me. I suppose the only thing I can think of to endeavor eternally to make my feeling felt, not so much by the words before you, but by the deeds that make the words real. I can only try, and I will labor to make he feel my words when she sees me. I think that is the best I can do for now.
Oh, and flowers, yes, some flowers.
Happy Birthday Kris, I love you.
