“Thirty-three. This was the year they got Him.”
Thanks, Mom. I was already thinking that.
All my Christian friends have taken their 33rd birthdays pretty heavily. Not midlife-crisis heavily, talking about death all of the time like a fifty year old, but hard nonetheless. It’s natural, if you strive to model yourself on Jesus, to ask the difficult questions now. In particular, the really hard one.
If I died now, what will I have done? Will it be enough?
Nobody expects me to die this year, much less rise from the dead. But whenever you hear of a contemporary dying (usually a celebrity), you ask yourself these questions. It’s kind of the reverse of my stocktake at the end of last year.
OK, this is what I have received. What have I given back?
I don’t know. I have a half-share in the birth and raising of Alex, who I hope will leave the world a better place than he finds it. That’s something. I try to be a loving wife, a good friend, smart and competent at work, a responsible citizen and a compassionate stranger. I buy fairtrade and take public transport instead of owning a car. I argue for peace in times of war, and for justice in times of greed.
But is it enough?
2 thoughts on “33”
A bleated Happy Birthday Abi!
Sorry I post this (or get in contact some other way) yesterday, I was away for the weekend (I know it’s not really an excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got:)
Something I forgot to mention in my previous comment is that there is one big upside to being 33… you can genuinely claim to be 21 again!
Just as long as you are counting in Hex 🙂
Comments are closed.