Fifty-three years ago today a young farmer and his wife made their way to a small town hospital with the arrival of the first-born imminent. In those days the gender of the child wasn’t known until the day of the birth, so they did not know they would be having a girl…me. I was there but I don’t know many of the details. They took me home to a big white farm-house where I cried a lot…so says my mom.
There were no disposable diapers or ready-made formula. If I remember right I think I had cow’s milk with Karo syrup in it, warmed on the stove in glass bottles because there were no plastic ones…yep, I’m officially old. If I’m wrong about the milk someone can correct me. My dad was a busy farmer, but my mom held down the fort raising three girls three years apart. I do not remember her complaining, ever. She was and is a hard worker and loved what she did. I often think birthdays should also be a celebration for the mom, after all, she is the one who gave birth.
I don’t get to celebrate with her today, but we always have a great time when I go to visit.
Today has been a gift, celebrating with people who have I have known for a long time.
Hearing from family and friends near and far has been a delight, thank God for Facebook and texting. It has been a joyous day because I am so rich in the things that really matter.
For a shy farm girl who has grown out of being introverted, I hope, it is friendships with family, my loving Church family, and friends I have made over the years that mean the most. Today God has reminded me how much He loves me through the love of everyone around me. I am truly humbled by the fact that God takes care of me in every detail.