My husband and I have gotten into a few discussions lately about my perspective on the things I deserve in life. Ok. If I’m being honest, we’ve gotten into a few arguments because, let’s face it, none of us like to have our junk displayed in front of us.
I was raised in a household where I was very cherished. I had a wonderful childhood. I had a few serious bumps while growing up, but I never knew what it was like to go without. By the grace of God my parents have been married for almost 30 years. A broken home was something the other kid had, and I felt bad for him like he had a disease.
I just had a birthday (25 . . . waiting for my quarter life crisis any day now), and the point has come and gone when I’ve realized that birthdays are not as big of a deal when you’re not a kid. As a child everyone changes so much from year to year that when you’re an adult it’s just repetition. Birthdays are fun, and I do have a wonderful husband who almost always does something very cute for me. I need to appreciate this more.
As of late, birthdays have been disappointing. I pine for the days of big parties, outings, and people making a bigger deal than just posting, “Happy Birthday!” on my Facebook page. I know this sounds incredibly conceited . . . because it is.
My ultimate point is not about birthdays. It is about how you and I approach special events in our life. I have a whole slew of incredible memories of parties, events, surprises, and love that have been showered on me over the years. From my huge sweet 16 party, to my wedding attended by over 400 people, to sweet surprise birthday shenanigans my would-be husband planned when we were younger, I have been very blessed. These things elude my memory as I anticipate and hope for tangible attention to satisfy me on my birthday, Valentine’s Day, or some other man-made day.
First of all, I am always the one encouraging others to have no expectations when walking into movie theaters so that we can’t help but be entertained (on rare occasions this doesn’t work, as in the cases of Gigli or The Last Airbender). But, why do I go through life with unrealistic expectations placed upon my loved ones to treat me like a princess when I think they should?
Secondly, and more importantly, I am forgetting God’s promises. I too often look for my own satisfaction in what this culture says I should, and look to flawed people to give me my sense of worth and belonging. I am really a princess – a daughter of the King. I grew up in a Christian home, and this sounds so cliche. This phrase has gotten to the point that I don’t know what it really means.
Getting back to the basics and the truth of what the Word says is always convicting and challenging. Even without that, if I’m presented with cold, hard facts I can’t deny.
I live in America, a first world country.
I had a beautiful wedding, leading (more importantly) to a beautiful marriage with a remarkable man.
I have a family who loves me to the ends of the earth.
I am working on my second college degree which makes me one of the more educated people in history.
Last summer, I providentially got to see Princess Kate and Prince William in their motorcade in LA as they drove by (they later expressed how cool it was that they got to see me).
They are people. Princes and Princesses are flawed and human just like us. I’ll keep my life, my love, and my friends. I know they love me whether or not they buy me lavish gifts or throw me expensive parties (I’m saying this to you so you hold me to it).
One good thing about not being a real princess is that my wedding guests didn’t wear these hats.