Happy New Year!

On July 26, I celebrated my 46^th birthday.

Many years ago I received a birthday card that declared one’s birthday as his or her own personal New Year. I never forgot that and pull that card out each year to remind myself that twice a year, I get a chance to reflect on my course to see what’s working and what may need adjusting or perhaps disregarding altogether.

My birthday is almost a month old now but the truth is every day presents us with an opportunity to begin anew – even the Bible reminds us that each morning is replete with brand new mercies.

When I officially turned 40 six years ago, my sister Etienne (see Evolution – Dedicated to Etienne Randall LeGrand, 30 June 2011), sent me a card that said I would no longer suffer fools gladly. What she neglected to mention was how much better the 40’s get with each passing year.

What I feel now as I celebrate my 46^th year (yes, I’m still celebrating J) is free.

I have truly laid aside every weight and it’s about damn time.

Those fools weigh a lot.

But it’s not only the fools. It’s the lies I ingested about Who I Am and What I Am capable of.

You see, I now know I get this awesome opportunity to be a co-creator in the wonderful story I am writing called my life.

I get to let go of the past and infuse every moment and relationship with the Gift of Love.

I get to observe beauty in the ordinary and realize how that acknowledgement enables me to see everything as extraordinary.

In addition to celebrating, however, my birthday season has made all of these discoveries more poignant as it now includes remembering the transition of two beautiful souls – my father, Matthew Miller (24 July 1996) and my cousin Renee Williams Carter (28 July 2011).

My father surrendered his battle with leukemia just two days before my birthday in 1996. At the time I was carrying precious cargo – one Drew Etienne Mitchell. It was as though my father’s spirit made room for her large life, just as my maternal grandmother, Alice Rebecca King Starks, did for me as my mother carried me in February 1965. It's her name - Allison Rebecca - that I wear proudly.

The significance of this disconcerting pattern is not lost on me.

It doesn’t sadden me as much as it humbles me and moves me to embrace a reverence of the power of God and how different His / Her ways are from my own.

That doesn’t mean I’m happy I never meet my grandmother or that I don’t wish there were moments Drew and her Pop-Pop could have shared. It just means that my 46-year-old self has learned the value of respecting the Process, as well as recognizing the futility of fighting the flow of life. This acceptance has given me a sense of peace that seriously passes my understanding, which, in turn, opens the door for monumental gratitude.

My cousin Renee, who made her transition just a few short weeks ago, was about 13 years my senior so I didn’t really get to hang out with her growing up. About two years ago, cancer attacked her body with a vengeance after many years in remission. It was then that I made a commitment to get to know her and her family better. I loved their energy and wanted some of it to rub off on me.

So my precious cargo Drew and I took a couple of road trips to visit for regular stuff – afternoons at the mall and burgers on the grill – as well as the special stuff families are known for, such as holiday dinners with more of our extended family and all the fixins’ - turkey, ham, fried shrimp, champagne, and lots of laughter. 

Renee’s brother delivered her obituary with his usual aplomb. Not by reading the recitation of her life reserved for the newspaper, but by describing his big sister in a way that took us on a journey into who she really was. He and others spoke of an indomitable spirit that not only informed her personal approach to life but her expectations of others.

Even though Renee’s husband Bill asked me to sing at the service, Renee’s best friend later told me that Renee asked her to make sure I did. "That Renee," I thought to myself. Even from the comfort of Heaven, she has a way of encouraging us while letting us know she expects more from us. I prefer to believe that this was her way of affirming our newfound kinship while letting me know she expects more of me and that she knows I’m capable of delivering.

So celebrating this year’s birthday was teary, sobering, and eventful. I realized my power as well as my powerlessness all at once. And it has truly become all good.

So what I want for my birthday is this one favor:

Pretend my birthday season is yours as well and use it as an excuse to look around and decide to live life to the full in the now.

That’s the best gift you could ever give to yourself and the Universe, which means you’re ultimately giving it to me.

Happy New Year!