Birthday Bliss. pt. 3.

To sum it up...

My birthday was kissed by the Son. 

I went to my mother's grave site today - the first time since the end of May. I'd hoped to visit yesterday - my birthday, but a series of events did not allot time for it...

Usually I arrive, put down a few flowers, run my hands over the raised bronze imprints of her face, name and birth date, shed a couple tears, manage to sputter a few words about missing her but thank God that she is no longer in this tainted world, then leave. But not this time. I stepped out onto the gravel and took the few steps to where her body is laid. There was no dramatic scene; I didn't fall to my knees in anguish or bury my face in my hands...I simply leaned down to remove the faux flowers an old family friend had placed in the vase months before. I walked back to my car and began cutting the fresh bouquet I'd just purchased. Once I set them in the vase I removed the dirt and grass that had found its way atop the marker. I stepped back to take a look, then as weird as it may sound to some, I took my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture. I'd realized that the flowers I brought were the first set of flowers me or any of my immediate family members had put into the vase. The bronze marker and vase had only just been completed in May; we received a phone call from the cemetery owner on the evening that it was placed into the ground and we drove straight there to take a look at it before dark. Someone else came a few days later to look and brought the fake flowers. I couldn't help but think of the irony that the first set of flowers I bought to honor the woman who gave me birth was on the day after my birthday.

I finally knelt down and stared at the bronzed imprints of her face. Tick. Tock. I ran my fingertips across the etchings of her features. I couldn't remove my eyes from hers looking back at me. Suddenly I felt them. Someone else's eyes seemingly piercing the back of my head. I didn't need to look up to know who it was that had met me there. He had come so quietly. My Father. The tears slowly began to trickle down my cheekbones like a small stream flowing through gently rolling hills. As the tears softly fell from my clouded eyes I thought of the high cheekbones I inherited from my mother, and I smiled. 

Immediately I felt as though I had been transported to the day before. My mind was thrust into thoughts of my birthday outing. He whispered the words, "Unconditional love," into my ear. Out poured prayers of thanksgiving as I felt His arms envelope me and draw me nearer as I buried my face into His chest. I visualized the faces of each person who sat around the table that night. Some were friends I've known all of my life, while others were friends I've made just in the past few months.  I thought about all of the memories I have with those individuals I've known for years - the good, the bad and downright horrible. In spite of some of those events along with the inevitability of life and the lack of opportunities to see each other as often as we'd like, they were still there. None of that mattered and they showed up to celebrate me - unconditional love. I then thought of the people I've known for nearly a year now, and the rest who I've been merely acquainted with for only a couple of months. The short time we've known each other, the fact that I had previously been unable to be in attendance at things they'd invited me to...none of that mattered and they came to celebrate me - unconditional love. My thoughts finally settled on her - the best friend I've found in a woman who I've only known for six months now. She is truly a friend sent from God, and is one who will be with me for a lifetime. I cannot even begin to explain how amazing it is that my Father used someone who I've known for such a short time to organize a birthday celebration that revealed more to me about myself than any other birthday I've had - unconditional love. As my mind fixated on that, I opened my eyes and looked down at my ring finger. She bought me a love knot ring that I haven't removed since I put it on that night. It is made up of two rings that are not soldered together, but joined by a simple knot at the top to form one ring - never to be separated again. She'd told me that it symbolized our friendship, but most importantly it symbolized my Father's love for me. You'd think that I was engaged as much as I look at it. I know that it was a wedding ring to me from my Father to remind me of his never-ending love for me - a ring not to be removed until the man He has sent to be my husband replaces it with an engagement ring...


He then brought me back to a few different occurrences when he told me that December was going to hold a major breakthrough in my understanding of who He is and what love looks like. Months ago during a period of fasting and prayer someone said to me, "Meditate on love. God's got something to show you." I'd pushed that occurrence into the confines of my mind quite some time ago, but the Holy Spirit brought it back to the forefront as I continued to kneel before my mother's grave. At that moment I gazed up at the gray clouds above; thunder began to sound and lightning flickered faintly in the late afternoon sky. I then turned my gaze to all of the graves around me, and I wondered why movies always made cemeteries seem either somber or scary; people's loved ones were buried there... I knew at that moment that this was the culmination of what He promised me about December, and that my not being able to come there on my birthday was by no means coincidental. He wanted me to come afterward to reflect. From last year's birthday to now He has done so much to show me my worth. I no longer have to live based on my past - hiding behind conditions I'd created in my mind in thinking that there were only certain ways people could possibly love me. I no longer have to hold my hands in front of me to keep people from hurting me, or to love them based solely on the ways I had previously interpreted love. 


We all know that the ultimate show of His unconditional love is the cross. But twenty-four years ago my Father displayed unconditional love by keeping me alive when the devil wanted me dead. My Father took what was meant for bad and made it good - oh so good. We are all called to love. Simply that. Our words, our actions, our deeds should be an example of His love for us all. I thought about my mother's freedom and how I want nothing more than to experience that - the hope of glory is what this life is all about. The timing of my being reminded of the meaning of my name was all a part of His plan to show me why I am here. My first name means 'pure' and 'light', while my middle name means 'victory of the people'. Out of my renewed understanding of who he designed me to be he has purified me from all of the past hurts I've endured, and has given me a testimony so that others may know His love in the same manner. He has purified me to bring victory to others. He has told me that I am to be a light in the darkness; my testimony is not my own. My mind was taken back to an instance when an intercessor once told me that my Father wanted me to know that He holds me in his hands, and when He holds out His hands for all who look upon me they see a crown. I stood to my feet and the rain and my tears simultaneously began to fall with more intensity. The only words my lips could form were these: 

"I pray that each moment I live to fulfill the calling for which You did not let me die that day."