Yep, you read it right. My birthday was Monday, August 8, this year. I have a love hate relationship with it. I love it because I love cake. I love thoughtful gifts from my family and friends. I don't like it because I am one year closer to old. The silver in my hair is almost enough to pluck and take to the pawn shop.
That said, I am a preacher when it comes to words. "Your words matter. You can't take them back. Choose your words wisely. Speak life, not death." But, I went and blew it, again. I did exactly what I try to teach my kids and students NOT to do. Let me step back. Our first year married, my sweet husband surprised me with roses, which I love, and I yelled at him because we didn't have the money to do that. We have been married 21 years and he has never bought me roses since. Did I mention that I love roses?
This time, I got mad at dinner Sunday night while we were talking about vacations. The girls were so excited thinking about it and I sat there thinking about how I don't even get a vacation. I still cook, I still clean, I do laundry. Same jobs, different house. I guess I let the worse side win, because I blurted it out and then another comment was made and boom. I told them not to even acknowledge my birthday because it doesn't even matter and I told my husband to take my gift back. Or I more specific, I yelled it. I sat by myself the rest of the night watching some end of the world movie on Netflix.
The next day, on my birthday, I got up and not one child told me happy birthday. My husband didn't text me. It was just another day. I guess they didn't want to make me angry again. The one time when they actually do what I say. I spent the day upset that no one said anything. I didn't even open the card they left on the counter for me because I was so hurt. It took until yesterday, (Thursday) for me to say something to the girls about the lack of acknowledgment. They reminded me what I said the night before at my birthday dinner. I guess I had forgotten that part. Humble pie, anyone? They told me they didn't want me to get mad again. I was like, "Well I didn't really mean it. My feelings were hurt." But it didn't matter. My birthday is a whole year away, so I blew it, again.
So often that is what we do with our words. Say things out of anger, when we really don't mean them. Then it hit me. As much as I preach about words, my own words stole joy from me and my kids. They like my birthday. While they don't go around and do dishes and all that, they do write me cards and show me they love me and I took that away from them. I acted like a brat. I let them worry about whether they would make me mad all day and night. I am the exact thing I don't want them to turn into and I am sad about it. I am broken. I am 40 something years old and I still screw up, a lot. God is good though. He let me see my mistake, even if it was a few days later, at least it isn't years later. I can seek forgiveness and maybe I can get a redo. If not, consequences are the things that sink lessons in and I am ok with that.
Unitl we read again...