My birthday is in February. February 29th to be exact. It’s always, always, without fail, always craptastic weather on my birthday. It’s the end of February, so there’s nothing I can really do about it. It’s either rainy and cold, or icy and cold or just plain dark and cold.
I always feel somewhat bad about asking people to celebrate with me on my birthday. It’s the time of year when you’re just about to pull your hair out if you look up at a gray sky one more time. All you really want to do is pull on sweatpants and drink wine on the sofa. Just me?
I remember one birthday where it was rain and icy and cold and dark. It wasn’t a leap year, so we were actually celebrating it on the 28th. N. and I, along with our best man, Wes, bundled up and went to Beer Run to celebrate. Bless their hearts, they were both trying so hard to make me feel special. Wes bought me a drink and N. raised his glass to toast me.
The three of us were looking up YouTube videos and bad pictures of famous people and having a perfectly fun time when two women at the bar called me over to talk to them.
“Hey you! Come over here real quick!” They were smiling and waving frantically.
My initial thought was, I am slightly terrified but oh-so curious as to why these two strangers are calling me over to the bar.
And so, naturally, I went.
“Is it your birthday, sweetie?” they spun around in their barstools to face me.
‘It sure is!” I like these two already.
They looked at each other, cocked their heads a little and one said, “There ain’t no way we’re letting you celebrate your birthday with two boys. Sit down, honey, we’re buying you some cake!”
They proceeded to purchase me the largest, chocolatiest, richest piece of cake I’ve ever eaten in my whole entire life. And then they purchased me an icy shot of Patron to wash it down. They even sang me happy birthday.
I called N. and Wes over to hang out, and the five of us sat and talked and sang songs all night. One of them was a teacher. One of them was a massage therapist. Both of them were two of the most thoughtful, kind and genuine women I’ve met to date. I haven’t talked to them since then, and to be honest, I can’t even remember their names. But I’ll never forget what they did for me because they did it selflessly and unconditionally.
I think about these two gals often. I wonder if they know that they challenge me—still—to show kindness to strangers- to love my neighbor as myself.
Have you bloggies ever had something like this happen to you? Were you the recipient or the giver? What do you think it looks like to love your neighbor as yourself?
Happy Friday, loves. You're the best.