happy birthday to who?

September 23, my baby brother, Craig, celebrated his twentieth birthday. Throughout the day he received birthday wishes in a variety of forms: face-to-face greetings, the buzz of a text message, and posts on his facebook wall. Craig and I celebrated his birthday together eating Taco Bell and laughing at all his undesired attention. Friends, family, and strangers contacted him nonstop wishing him well on his birthday. As outgoing as he is, Craig hates receiving that much attention. While we laughed at his ridiculous responses, Craig delivered food for thought. He suggested that we wish Mom happy birthday, since, “she did all the work.” I almost choked on my Burrito Supremo. Mom?


Craig’s thought haunted me. Why don’t I wish Mom “Happy Birthday”? Yes, Mom birthed me, but what she birthed in me is greater. Nearly every aspect of my daily life connects to an idea or belief she instilled in me. Without Mom, in essence, I cease to exist. She created me.


First, Mom birthed in me the desire to serve. Mom serves everywhere. As I grew up, Mom worked at home to help pay the bills. The hum of her sewing machine filled the house. She never complained about working, in fact, she loved helping Dad. In 1996, her Alma Mater, Tri-City Christian School, hired her to teach art classes. Since then her roles have grown to include computer classes, office work, alumni coordination, and running the lunch room. Her impact on hundreds of students in the past fourteen years amazes me. She makes herself available to both staff and students, no matter how busy her schedule. She serves wherever she is asked, never expecting or wanting praise. A smile always adorns her face—even when life seems to be spiraling out of control. As I watched her minister, I learned that the reward of serving outweighs self-promotion.


Mom also taught me to overcome my fears. As a young child, thunderstorms terrified me. The booming sound of thunder sent me running to Mom—even in the dead of night. Dad’s strict “no child in my bed” rule left me crouched on the floor by their bed, trembling in the darkness. Mom always knew I was there. Her hand stretched out of the darkness and connected with mine. The terrifying booms faded and I fell asleep beside her bed, tightly grasping Teddy and her hand. Her hand comforted me—gave me courage to face the unknown. When I found out I had to have ear surgery, I clung to Mom’s hand. She sat with me, holding my hand and encouraging me with Scripture. While teaching me to overcome my fears, she birthed in me the necessity to turn to Christ for all things.


Craig’s comment set my mind in motion—I considered all that Mom birthed in me. When I returned to the dorm after dinner with Craig, I got on facebook and wished Mom happy birthday. I thanked her for not only birthing Craig, but also for birthing so much of my character as well. Two weeks later Mom sent me an e-mail that changed my life.


On October 4, Mom celebrated her fortieth spiritual birthday. My “happy birthday” made her think about her spiritual birthday. She shared that, like Craig, she had no part in her spiritual birth. Her salvation was a result of Christ’s labor of love on the cross.


Once again, “happy birthday” set my mind in motion.


On December 17, 1996, one week after my eighth birthday, Mom became my spiritual mother. With trembling knees and a heavy heart, I talked to Mom about salvation as Dad and the boys packed for a hunting trip. She took me to her room, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled out her old leather-bound Bible. Nothing else mattered. For twenty minutes she turned the thin pages and labored over me. She led me to Christ.


Her labor of love didn’t stop there. Every day we celebrate our “happy birthdays” together by sharing what God continues to teach us about Himself. The email I received on October 5 showed Mom’s deep love and compassion for me. I stopped in awe as I read her email. She is the reason I celebrate my spiritual birthday. Christ has, and continues to, use her to grow me in Him.


I never expected Craig’s birthday to incite so much thought, but it did. Who do you wish “happy birthday” to? Who has impacted and shaped you?


For me, the answer is Mom.


Happy Birthday, Mom.