Cake!

A week before my birthday, I'm setting the table at my grandparents' house (my parents and I are staying the night because they live closer to the hospital where I'm scheduled for an appointment the next morning).  


It's been said in our family that you don't have a true birthday unless you participate in the family celebration.  I'm certain some people think musicals are hokey and unrealistic.  No one breaks into song in the middle of dinner, or in the midst of a rousing conversation, right?  Wrong!  Completely and utterly wrong!  My family does this, and do you know what?  We do it all the time.  And do you know what else?  I LOVE IT!  So, my birthday cake rests on the kitchen counter, waiting to be unveiled at the perfect time.  When my family sings "Happy Birthday," they don't just sing--oh no!  A thrilling interpretation of this classic song rings forth with glorious four part harmony and vibrant gusto (once my cousin's grandmother on the other side of her family was so amused, she asked us to sing again)!  Needless to say, I was excited about this dinner (and the possibility of singing a show tune later).


My cousin and her daughter Brynnlee came over early.  Brynnlee's eyes lit up after seeing the birthday treat.  CAKE! CAKE, CAKE, CAKE, CAKE, CAKE!  Such innocence and excitement radiated from her darling face!  She delightfully ran around babbling nonsensical words to anyone who would listen.  She discovered the cake and needed everyone to know.  After dinner, my mom passed the slices of our dessert around the table.  When Brynnlee joyfully received her piece, she hugged my mom and gave her a kiss!  Her joyfulness was intoxicating--and all over a slice of cake!

Brynnlee

When was the last time I was truly excited about something--truly joyful?  I don't just mean happy, but jubilant, enraptured even (like Brynnlee).

Living with a chronic illness for over two years has the capacity to overwhelm and defeat you.  I lament over how easy it is to become preoccupied with all of the things I can't do as opposed to the many things I can do.  It's hard to stay positive.  It's hard to feel cheerful, and even more difficult to feel satisfied.  

The illness I'm plagued with makes it almost impossible to have a life.  How can I feel satisfied when the only thing I did today was walk one block to the bank to deposit a check?  Unmotivated to cook, I ordered take-out.  Exhausted and unable to manage the pain, I stayed in my room all day.  Transitioning from an active, multi-tasking, efficient college student who had mastered the "almost-running-yet-still-walking college gait" has been more than difficult.  I had places to go, things to do.  Now, I can't even walk up a flight of stairs without intense difficulty (during the pre-registration phone consultation for a procedure I recently had, the woman asked me if I was able to climb a flight of stairs or run a short distance.  I regrettably had to answer "no").  I'm 22!  Bounding up three flights of stairs to my apartment should be a breeze!

When I think about Brynnlee and her over-active happiness, I smile.  This little girl full of innocence who can barely talk can teach me something.  Her excitement about eating cake makes me realize that joy is tucked away in hidden places waiting for me to discover it.  I can trudge through life feeling sorry about all of the things I'm no longer able to do, or I can celebrate and acknowledge the blessings God is sprinkling through my life (and as I practice this, I've become cognizant that it's more like a downpour).  I can grumble about feeling sick all day, or be grateful that I was able to enjoy the fresh air as I walked to the bank.  Instead of feeling bitter about staying in my room all day, I can express happiness that several friends called to chat with me.  

I hope to regain the abilities I once had after my doctors discover what's ailing me, but for now, I'm content to relish in the small things--like cake!