Today . . .

My age says I should no longer hold lengthy conversations

about the greatest moments in The Muppets repertoire,

consort with Smurfs,

or linger over trinkets in a bargain bin 

marked with Mr. Men and Little Miss.  

My age implies thoughts should angle 

toward savings bonds, health insurance, 

mortgages, property value.

My age insists the time to feel care-free and fresh 

is past -- now is time

for my childlike soul to run on fumes until

it just gives out, pulls over, and waits to hitch another ride, 

eventually the first part of the trip 

disappearing in the distance of a rear-view mirror.

Today I am 30.  

And what once made me a tad anxious, 

now makes me proud.  

Three decades under the belt, a fourth

just beginning.  The first three were practice anyway . . . 

the fourth offers a chance to take what was good 

and polish it up for the next run.  

The chance to take what was bad, hold it close and nurture

out the pain 

and failure --
hold it closer,
until a soft wash of peace gives it wings
and
it no longer needs me.

Today I will not hate myself for the things I should not have done,

the things I have yet to do.  

Today I will love myself 

for all that I am, all that I have been, and all 

that I have the opportunity to become.  

Every other day is a day of
self-wreckage,
self-doubt,
self-persecution.
But today I will quietly celebrate myself 

with silent songs of praise and subtle 

adulations, keeping the embers
of my childlike soul burning,
with no fears of childishness.

Today I will focus on the creation God has always meant for me 

to be and love.  Today I will see the promise

that exists beyond my own "knowingness."  

Today will be a day for remembering

all that I have, not all that I lack.   A day for recalling

the fullness, not the emptiness.  

Today will be a day of thankfulness . . . . 

a day to see God's graces, 

no matter how small.