Today, I’m 57 years-old, and I celebrate every heartbeat. Here’s part of the reason why:
On this day, I’ve officially lived 10 years longer than my mother, who trudged the paths of a life of unspeakable tragedy. On this day, I’ve also lived 20 years longer than my sister, who hacked her way through the jungles of a life of hardship, pain and suffering. Instead of celebrating my 40th birthday, on October 20, 2000 we buried my sister and walked away to sort it all out.
I almost didn’t make it after that.
Coming from such a family history, today I realize I’m a walking miracle. I was a mess for 40 years, and still am on my worst days. But in the year 2000–in that year that I turned 40, something happened to me that I still can’t really explain. It happened during walks at the cemetery where my family is buried, and it happened from the inside out. I’m eternally grateful.
I met God in the person of Jesus there, in a real and personal way that filled up all my holes and changed me forever. And it quite literally saved me.
And in the early 90s, thanks to the kind guidance of two Godly doctors, I embarked upon a lifestyle of prevention, seeing my physical body as something to be stewarded. After all, I am not my own. I was bought with a price. So I do what I can to present my body as a living sacrifice. It started out of necessity, after some strange and potentially serious physical issues, and is now life-and-death important to me.
So there you have it. Today, I am thankful, and I’m celebrating life and God’s goodness, all day long.