62

 

Me at my desk this morning. Happy Birthday to me--62!

Today is December 28, 2024, the day I turn 62, and I will love this year.

I will love it because I choose to love it, because it will contain all the terrible and horrible things that will make my faith stronger and me stronger and remind me that I’m human, still breathing and given this gift called life. I will love it because it will contain the laughter and energy of my grandchildren, the ones close to me, as well as the ones far away. I will love 2025 because every day I’m alive is a chance for me to create beautiful things—on the page, in the garden, in a piece of wood, in a classroom, in the hearts of people I love. 2025, like all years, will be a year that contains all the freedom and trappings of human life, with jerks on the road who drive like idiots and strangers who are kind and friendly in grocery stores. I love the motion of life, even when it contains death and disappointment. I love that I have family: Mario, my children, my grandchildren, and a private, protected relationship with God.

This year, for my birthday, I want to share two things: One is something I always share: the Psalm that corresponds with my birthday, the one that reminds me that God is my strength. The second thing is a poem by Mary Oliver called “Count the Roses” –which I can never read without crying. For Oliver, who wrote about nature, it contained all the mystery and miracles that life did. Breathe deeply and try to read it aloud. I hope it will refresh your journey. 

I love you.

 

Count the Roses by Mary Oliver

 Count the roses, red and fluttering.

Count the roses, wrinkled and salt.

Each with its yellow lint at the center.

Each with its honey pooled and ready.

Do you have a question that can’t be answered?

Do the stars frighten you by their heaviness and their endless number?

Does it bother you, that mercy is so difficult to understand?

For some souls it’s easy; they lie down on the sand

and are soon asleep.

For others, the mind shivers in its glacial palace,

and won’t come.

Yes, the mind takes a long time, is otherwise occupied

than by happiness, and deep breathing.

Now, in the distance, some bird is singing.

And now I have gathered six or seven deep red,

half-opened cups of petals between my hands,

and now I have put my face against them

and now I am moving my face back and forth, slowly, against them.

The body is not much more than two feet and a tongue.

Come to me, says the blue sky, and say the word.

And finally even the mind comes running, like a wild thing,

and lies down in the sand.

Eternity is not later, or in any unfindable place.

Roses, roses, roses, roses.

Psalm 62 (NASB) 

Truly my soul finds rest in God;
    my salvation comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
    he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

How long will you assault me?
    Would all of you throw me down—
    this leaning wall, this tottering fence?
Surely they intend to topple me
    from my lofty place;
    they take delight in lies.
With their mouths they bless,
    but in their hearts they curse.

 Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
    he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
    he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
    pour out your hearts to him,
    for God is our refuge.

Surely the lowborn are but a breath,
    the highborn are but a lie.
If weighed on a balance, they are nothing;
    together they are only a breath.
Do not trust in extortion
    or put vain hope in stolen goods;
though your riches increase,
    do not set your heart on them.

One thing God has spoken,
    two things I have heard:
“Power belongs to you, God,
and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”;
and, “You reward everyone
    according to what they have done.”