Today I celebrated another birthday. I spent the morning at
work, got some exercise, and then celebrated quietly with a few friends. It’s
time for bed, and I am 33.
What does it mean? I haven’t the slightest clue. I don’t
even know who the “typical 33 year-old” is anyway. I have managed to avoid that inevitable “gut” that most men my age
have, but I’m sure it’s waiting for me somewhere not too far down the road.
When I was a kid, I was a complete spazz. Ask anyone in my
family. Some old home videos resurfaced recently and I shook my head, reminded
of this fact. If there was a camera rolling, I wanted to be in front of it. I
danced around a lot, somehow always with minimal clothing. I sang out loud and
made up songs. I turned my mouth into any musical instrument I could. I said
LOTS of awkward things and made many missteps. I’m certain I looked like a
fool, but never cared. I was truly innocent.
I gave myself a challenge a few months back. That challenge
was to sum my life up in one word. One….single….word. It’s not easy, trust me.
But after a few days of contemplation, I came up with one. The word I chose was “humbling”. Why? The
reasons are so many that I cannot count them. But I can tell you this: Since
that age of singing and dancing, that “Age of Innocence”, things got really
tough. Adolescence came, along with friends, puberty, sports, girls, religion;
then my twenties arrived with jobs,
college, choices, consequences, relationships, beliefs, relocating… And now
three years into my thirties, here I am.
“Humbling”…. I didn’t choose this word because I feel broken
or battered (although at times I have, and I’m sure I will again). I chose it
because feeling humble feels warm in my soul. It makes me more patient. It
makes me more accepting of others. It makes me want to help a stranger. It
makes me realize that we’re all in this together. It makes me care less about who deserves what. It makes me feel
like I have anything I would ever want. And after I showered tonight and found
myself singing and dancing in my room alone, like a kid, I realized that I do.
