Yesterday I turned 50.
And I think I had one of the nicest birthdays I’ve ever had.
I didn’t get a lot of presents.
I didn’t get any present that cost a lot of money.
Most of the presents were made by children. A painting of my name. A picture of a pig drawn on scratch paper. A pin.
I went to dinner with some of my closest friends who put candles on a carrot cake and sang to me. And even though they made me wear a striped sombrero that made me look like a witch from Cancun, it was great fun.
I think what made it so nice was the fact that I was content with what it was.
Clear down to your socks contentment.
Maybe that’s what turning 50 is supposed to be about. Not that you have everything figured out, or that you’ve gotten everything you wanted, but that you’ve learned to be content with all you have.
And when I look around, all I have is a lot.
I think before I would’ve left dinner and come home alone wanting more. No matter how many people were at the party, it still wouldn’t have been enough. Somebody would’ve still been missing.
Plenty of people I love were missing from dinner at Abuelo’s tonight. People I can’t wait to celebrate my birthday with again.
People who couldn’t be there because they live somewhere else.
People who couldn’t be there because they’ve already gone home.
But tonight was about relishing the ones who were there. Friendships that are rich and sweet, growing older and deeper all the time.
That’s more than enough for now.
But can you imagine the birthday parties in heaven?!