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Reflections June 2013

The Heart of a Birthday

By Allison St. Claire

Certainly I don't want to stop having birthdays. Not for a while anyway. But given how many people have chosen dreadful options during my favorite week of the year, I can only wonder: What am I going to do with the rest of my years to help stop this madness from ever happening again, whether it's my special week or not?

Thirteen years ago I wrote this piece on assignment for a national magazine. Looking over it today it seems nothing has changed – in fact, in many ways has gotten worse. Ironically, many of us will not even be able to think of the Boston Marathon as a Good Thing anymore except as a tribute to mankind’s resilience and bravery in the face of tragedy. I can still only hope for more good days than bad, for more peace than violence, for more people to hope, pray and work for heartfelt good will throughout the world.

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I just carved another notch into my birthday belt the other day. (The fact that I also had to punch another hole to expand it at the same time is another story.)

It was a so-so birthday. Nothing special. No big zeros this year. In fact, I'm a `tweener." That is, I'm halfway between getting my first greetings from AARP and getting my first checks from Social Security. Nowheresville.

"So," I thought, "if there's nothing particularly special about this day this year, how `bout other years?"

The only thing I ever knew about the significance of this particular day in April is that Paul Revere rode this night to deliver the famous "One if by land, two if by sea..." message to other patriots. I'm not much in favor of war, but this seemed like a Good Thing to have happened on the day I claimed as my own special one.

Then a couple of centuries later the Boston Marathon came along more or less on that day, and much as I avoid for myself anything even remotely resembling propelling my body at anything faster than a slow-to-average amble, it seemed to make a lot of other people very happy. So here was another Good Thing.

I widened my scope. I contemplated the whole week or so on either side of my birthday, because it is always one of the high points of my favorite season. Tulips and hyacinths are popping up and peach and cherry blossoms are popping out. I can still view with optimistic anticipation the yummy goodies soon to pop from the garden without having to confront the actual results a couple of months later -- weeds overgrowing teeny tomatoes, zucchinis on steroids who've gone way beyond edibility, or abortive ears of sweet corn that didn't pollinate correctly.

This year, however, as I meditated on what the world remembers about this week, I decided I'd relinquish all claims on it if only other people would let it go by peacefully.

For example, 25 years ago, our troops were scrambling for their lives to get out of Saigon. As an ardent opponent of the Vietnam War, this seemed like a Pretty Good Thing. At least the war would end.

But it's been all downhill since then. To wit: Seven years ago there was Waco. Five years ago Oklahoma City. Last year it was Littleton. This was getting way too close to home. A couple of my friends teach at Columbine High School; a whole lot of friends' and acquaintances' children and grandchildren attend Columbine. A very close friend used to babysit one of the young men who was mown down at age 15.

And the final straw? A couple of days ago a 61-year-old man opened automatic weapon fire on a homeowners meeting at a retirement community and killed two elderly residents and wounded a couple of others. His issue? The shrubbery outside his condo had been trimmed against his wishes!

Certainly I don't want to stop having birthdays. Not for a while anyway. But given how many people have chosen dreadful options during my favorite week of the year, I can only wonder: What am I going to do with the rest of my years to help stop this madness from ever happening again, whether it's my special week or not?

Some days my efforts seem so puny. I smile at a surly grocery clerk and instead of noticing her ever-increasing hostility as I move up in her line, I comment instead on how gracefully she moves as she processes orders. Maybe she'll get a different focus on her day and go home tonight without taking her work frustration out on her children. I'll never know the results, but it didn't cost anything to try.

Some days my efforts seem to be reaching a lot of people in extraordinarily positive ways. I get encouraging feedback on books I've worked on and trainings I've done about how families have changed their focus and learned to love each other again. My heart is warmed, and happy tears flow at their success.

But then another incident happens. Just yesterday, an enraged ex-husband chased his wife and children fleeing from him in their car and rammed them into the path of a speeding train when the woman stopped at a railway crossing. More people lost.

More tears, but these are definitely not of joy. My mind returns to a larger question: Not only do I wonder what I'm going to do ... I wonder what I can do to encourage you to help others reach their full quota of birthdays for this lifetime -- and for them to be able to enjoy each and every minute between those days?

Until then, may peace rule your heart. And as a dear friend always says, "Keep up your heart work!"


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