Why Does Turning Sixty Bother Me?

In three days I will celebrate a big birthday. Turning sixty bothers me a little, and I'm not sure why.

It's not the extra sags under my chin or the pains in new places. It's not that I'm afraid to die in another forty years or so. I know where I'm going. 

Perhaps I wish I'd made a few different choices. Laughed more and stressed less. Listened more and talked less. Forgiven faster, sang louder, danced longer.

The one thing I have learned in the last sixty years, that no one on this nutty earth will ever rip from me: God is faithful.  Even when we mess up, He stays good and loving and true to His word. 

I think I will celebrate, after all! Bring on the cake. . . 

A Fun Time-saving Idea!

Two days before my birthday, and I'm looking for all the time-saving ideas I can collect. Here is one I discovered by "accident" recently:

Read your snail mail standing up, next to a trash can. You will read faster, and can throw away all the junque mail immediately, instead of letting it clutter up your end table, kitchen counter, or bathroom floor.

Now that you've saved some time, go play with your kids, text a friend, or watch God paint the sky.

Enjoy your life. You are worth it.

Do you receive more mail than you'd like? How do you keep on top of it? How about email?

Celebrate Your Age!

 

Our society is far too obsessed with youth. After all, we are young for such a short time, then spend the rest of our lives trying to recapture the firm bellies, wrinkleless faces, and acheless joints of our early years. Or do we?

Would it not be wiser to celebrate every year gained, every ounce of wisdom and each hard lesson learned? I am encouraged by these heros who proved that you don't have to be young to win:

At age 59, Daniel Defoe published Robinson Crusoe;

Agatha Christie wrote The Mousetrap (the longest running play in history) at age 64;

Ronald Reagan was 69 when he became president;

At age 76, Grandma Moses began to paint;

Michaelangelo, at age 88, crafted the Rondandini Pieta, a sculpture of an old man holding Christ, what some believe to be his most compelling sculpture;

Leopoli Stokowski signed a six-year recording contract at age 94, and

Ichijirou was 100 when he climbed Mt. Fuji.

I will be 58 next Wednesday, August 14. I am eager to see what God has in store for me in the next four or five decades.

What about you? Don't let society tell you you're washed up after your 30th, 40th, or 70th birthday. Keep dreaming, planning, seeking God's will, and celebrate your age!

The Invitation

When Mom set the grocery bags on the table, her eyebrows looked like a capital V. “Do you know anything about Jenny running down our driveway, crying?” she said.

I was too young to have honed my lying methods. I opened my eyes as large as I could, but I think my voice rising two notches gave me away. “No, Mom, I have no idea.”

“I think you do, young lady. Jenny was sobbing like she’d lost her last friend when I drove up just now. Either you tell me what happened, or you can march up to your room and stay there ‘til you’re ready to talk.”

 

I emptied both lungs with a sigh and plopped down on the couch. “Well, maybe she was upset because I invited her to my birthday party, and when she asked if she had to bring a gift, I said, “yes.’”

Mom’s eyes flashed fire. “You didn’t! Jeanette, you know good and well that her grandma is raising Jenny. She can barely afford to put food on the table, let alone buy a present for a seven-year-old with too many toys already. You go right down there and apologize to Jenny. Tell her she is welcome to your party, and she doesn’t need to bring a gift. Parties are not for presents, anyway. They are for celebrating our friends, and you won’t have any left if you keep that selfish attitude.”

Now it was my turn to cry. How could I face Jenny, and confess that my penchant for presents carried me away? Lying was out; I saw how well that worked. So I trudged the half a block down the street and rang the bell, gulping back my tears, and  re-invited Jenny to my party. Thankfully, she accepted, or Mom would still be mad at me.

 

Did you hear about the party Jesus is planning for all His friends? It’s called the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. You can read about it in Revelation 19. I’m sure it will be one huge shindig of a celebration. And unlike me at age seven, Jesus isn’t expecting fancy gifts from us.

That may surprise some people. They thought that to get into Heaven, they had to do a certain number of good deeds, or give so many dollars to charity. But Jesus has already paid for the entire party. He’s the one giving us the gift of eternal fellowship with God.

It cost Him dearly—His very life—and I know He’ll be disappointed if you don’t show up.

 

Oh, there is one little present all of us need to bring to get into Jesus’ party. Our hearts. But when you think of all He’s done for us, it’s not that much to ask, really.

After my seventh birthday party—which included Jenny—we moved away and I lost track of her. I can only hope she’s discovered about Jesus’ party, and that I’ll see her there. And neither of us will be crying.

Have you given your heart to Jesus? It's all He asks to make His party and your life complete.

The Giftless Birthday Party

When Mom set the grocery bags on the table, her eyebrows looked like a capital V. “Do you know anything about Jenny running down our driveway, crying?” she said.

I was too young to have honed my lying methods. I opened my eyes as large as I could, but I think my voice rising two notches gave me away. “No, Mom, I have no idea.”

“I think you do, young lady. Jenny was sobbing like she’d lost her last friend when I drove up just now. Either you tell me what happened, or you can march up to your room and stay there ‘til you’re ready to talk.”

I emptied both lungs with a sigh and plopped down on the couch. “Well... maybe she was upset because I invited her to my birthday party, and when she asked if she had to bring a gift, I said, “yes.’”

Mom’s eyes flashed fire. “You didn’t! Jeanette, you know good and well that her grandma is raising Jenny. She can barely afford to put food on the table, let alone buy a present for a seven-year-old with too many toys already. You go right down there and apologize to Jenny. Tell her she is welcome to your party, and she doesn’t need to bring a gift. Parties are not for presents, anyway. They are for celebrating friends, and you won’t have any left if you keep that selfish attitude.”

Now it was my turn to cry. How could I face Jenny, and confess that my penchant for presents carried me away? Lying was out; I saw how well that worked. So I trudged the half a block down the street and rang the bell, gulping back my tears, and  re-invited Jenny to my party. Thankfully, she accepted, or Mom would still be mad at me.

Did you know that Jesus is planning a party for all His friends? It’s called the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. You can read about it in Revelation 19. I’m sure it will be one huge shindig of a celebration.
And unlike me at age seven, Jesus isn’t expecting fancy gifts from us.

That may surprise some people. They thought that to get into Heaven, they had to do a certain number of good deeds, or give so many dollars to charity. But Jesus has already paid for the entire party. He’s the one giving us the gift of eternal fellowship with God. It cost Him dearly—His very life—and I know He’ll be disappointed if you don’t show up.

Oh, there is one little present all of us need to bring to get into Jesus’ party. Our hearts. But when you think of all He’s done for us, it’s not that much to ask, really.

After my seventh birthday party—which included Jenny—we moved away and I lost track of her. I can only hope she’s discovered about Jesus’ party, and that I’ll see her there. And neither of us will be crying.
P.S. I'm having a birthday party for myself tomorrow, even though my birthday isn't 'til Tuesday. I didn't demand one present. Are you proud of me?

My Favorite Birthday Gift of All Time (well, of 54 years)

This is what Kevin, my DH bought me for my birthday Friday. It has already become my second favorite book and my favorite birthday gift of all time--well, of 54 years. At 1361 pages, the Synonym Finder by Rodale supplies you with every word and alternate word your heart desires. And for my heart, that's saying a ton! I am addicted to words, as are most of you.

I took it out to breakfast on my birthday for our reading entertainment, to work with me so I could show it off to my assistant, and have already used it dozens of times in revising my WIP. I would sleep with it under my pillow if it weren't so fat. Perhaps I'd wake up with new words floating out my ears!

Do you have a favorite reference book you use again and again? Do tell.

Psst: Please return Wednesday for some very exciting news...

And the Winners Are...

Announcing the Winners of the Pati Lacy book drawing:

!st place winner receives an autographed copy of Patti's newest book, What the Bayou Saw:

Sandee! Congratulations!!!

Second place winner receives an autographed copy of Patti's first book, An Irishwoman's Tale:

Jessica! Congratulations!!!

Thanks to "you all" for entering the contest; I received so many encouraging comments about the interview, and Patti's books. Stay tuned; I will be doing more interviews and book givaways in weeks to come. My next is on August 26th...

This is where the picture of the guinea pig was supposed to go. Use your imagination, okay?

Today is my 54th birthday. In my lifetime I have seen:

The first man on the moon;

The advent of the microwave oven;

Computers evolving from room-sized to lap-size;

Wi-fi hookups in fast food restaurants, and

Gourmet coffee shops popping up on every corner-- yes!

What are some notable changes you've seen in your lifetime?

Happy Weekend,

Jen