10 The days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even then their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.
Psalm 90:10 (NRSV)
When my kiddos were young, I took great delight in throwing ELABORATE birthday parties and inviting everyone we knew. Fueled by Pinterest and the need to impress others, and the notion that my children were just the very best ones that God ever made, the parties were a little (okay, a LOT) over the top. One year there was a bubble themed party in which kids could travel from station to station in our backyard to different ways to make bubbles. There was a mermaid/pirate themed party, and at the end we revealed a new playscape for our kids' birthday present in the backyard. There were designer cakes from exclusive bakeries. There were entertainers including one year an AMAZING ventriloquist, and another year an exclusive puppet show we bought at a Lord's Acre Live Auction. When my son was into trains, we had a train-themed birthday party where we loaded all the kids onto a mini train complete with a conductor who punched their tickets and drove them on laps around the block. There were bounce houses. There were WATER bounce houses. Two of them. There were photo walls and party favors. I loved every moment of the planning, presenting, and executing of those parties.
You can imagine, can't you, the soul crushing blow to my heart when my children began to reject my ideas. There was the year my daughter opted to go, just the four of us, to Great Wolf Lodge instead of having a party. There was the year my son told me he wanted a surprise party (Weird that you request to have your own surprise party, but okay.) and my planning kicked in only to have him come back about a week before and say that wasn't what he wanted at all. And then he dropped on me the kicker no birthday party planning mama ever wants to hear. He told me that all he wanted that year was to have his birthday at McDonald's. My least.favorite.place.ever. But, because I love my son, I drove up to the McDonald's and met with the manager (???) and planned (???) my son's McDonald's birthday party.
You know what? Tom had as much fun (or more, if I'm honest) with that party as he did at any of the elaborate ones that I planned previously. And, if I'm honest with myself, it was kinda nice to just show up and then pay the bill and walk away and let Ronald and associates worry about the rest.
We are about to begin our Days of Distinction sermon series here at the church, and quite frankly in the during Covid-19, all our days kinda run together and nothing about them is very distinct. Which begs the question: How do you make your days distinct? You do something unusual. Something God is calling you to do that you have been previously too scared to do. You take the leap of faith, you forgive the unforgivable, you lavish the gift of time, talent, or money in an area that has a need. You smile even though you're wearing a mask because your eyes smile, too. And when your kid says he wants no more elaborate birthday parties and only wants fries with that, you go down to the McDonald's and enjoy the way God made your kid unique, and quirky, and the most Thomas of all the Toms, and you feel in your bones the words of the psalmist: "The days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even then their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away."
Written By: Christie Robbins