turning 57

When Michael turned 50, I threw him a big party! I hired a taco cart, decorated with mini piñatas, loteria cards, and De La Rosa Mazapan, had ice buckets filled with Coronas and several flavors of Jarritos, and made like…4 batches of flan. Mariachi music echoed from the speakers. All his favorites were on deck. If I remember correctly, there were about 60 friends and family in attendance. A good time was had by all, and Michael really felt special. My 50th birthday was decidedly different. There was no party, none of my friends or family invited over to celebrate with me, no dinner reservation or birthday cake. I was devastated and angry and have held onto the disappointment of that day ever since, even to the point - I’m ashamed to admit - of the occasional snide dig when I wanted him to feel it.

Several of my married female friends said that was normal behavior for most husbands – their own included – and the way they were able to overcome it (ahem…learned to live with it) was to plan their own celebration and buy their own gift. I did that very thing last year, and it totally fell flat. The date of my party was too close to the end of November and the beginning of Christmas preparations, so hardly anyone attended. I can’t even remember what I bought myself. The bottom line is that I wanted my husband to make a fuss over me, and he didn’t; I wanted to feel special, and I didn’t. I wanted him to want to make me feel special, and he didn’t. Clearly, some things are coming up for Annalea.

While the feelings surrounding this have mellowed since then, I know I need to forgive him and let go of the resentment I still hold, even six years later. And as there’s no longer any opportunity for Michael to plan a special celebration for me, it saddens me that – after 23 years of making it a point to celebrate my family on their birthdays – my husband, at least in this, didn’t grasp that I wanted to be celebrated, too. It wasn’t about the actual birthday, right? There’s always something deeper at play, and I wish he were still here to delve into that with me. I believe he would have had I brought it up. Now, all future party planning will fall to me should I want such a thing. And somehow, because of his passing last summer, the difference between then and now is more obvious than ever.  

Daniel and I were discussing this post as I wrote it, and he said, “Dad probably knew that he screwed the pooch for your 50th and trying to make up for it in subsequent birthdays was pointless because, in his eyes, you would have rejected it. He failed you in something big, so…why even try?” He paused for a moment and then finished by saying, “Not to dishonor my father, but to remember that he was still just a man.”

Only 18, folks!

Believe me, the pettiness of my part in what I’ve shared here isn’t lost on me. How quick we are to want something we think we deserve! To hold someone in contempt for not living up to our expectations. To withhold ourselves on some level as a form of punishment. To let what we want rob us of what we have. It puts me in mind of the importance of having a heart filled with gratitude instead of hurt, ego, and entitlement

Tomorrow is my 57th birthday, and for the first time in 23 years, it will pass without Michael. Jack, Evan, and Daniel are taking me to dinner, and I’m looking forward to celebrating with them because when they’re all together, the laughs come a mile a minute, and we can all use that right now. Plus, celebrating with them will be different – it won’t carry the sting of how a husband and wife can hurt one another; of the ways that Michael and I hurt one another. And so, as I move through a year of “firsts,” I know that a lot of things are going to come up for me about my marriage – beautiful mountain top moments and heartbreaking valleys, times of allowing past hurts to determine how I showed up and allowing the Lord refine me in a way that’s not only for my good but also pleasing to Him. I expect it will take time and, occasionally, it will be uncomfortable. And, anything that draws me closer to my Father can be counted as joy!  

On that note, and with help from the Lord, I wrote a devotional over the last couple of months, and I want to share it with you. It’s called Hope In the Waiting, and you can find it on my Shop page. Once purchased, it will come to you as a digital download.

Part of the idea to write it came from the realization that Christmas is right around the corner. I always feel unprepared for all that I need and want to do for my family and friends when it comes to celebrating, and I end up running around like a crazy person trying to get everything finished in time. And as much as I love the festivities, I decided that this year leading up to them, I wanted to step away from the mad rush and quiet my heart and mind because, for my family, Michael will be missing for the first time this year (and all the years to follow), so everything will feel different for us all; the lights and laughter of the season serving as a reminder of who’s missing - a voice, a hand, a home that will never be the same again.

Honestly, I haven’t wanted to celebrate at all.

I thought about going away - being somewhere that I’d never been to with Michael; a different view, someone else’s decorations, a completely different experience. But those things, while distracting, won’t make the space any less empty or the loss any less painful.

Maybe this year doesn’t feel like a celebration for you either. Maybe joy feels just out of reach, and hope seems like something fragile that you lost a long time ago. Maybe the heaviness of loss clings to every step you take. If that’s you, you’re not alone.

Enter the season of Advent – not a time to rush into Christmas, but a time to take a deep breath and lean into the waiting of a coming Savior. You don’t have to have it all together here. There’s no perfect way to wait on God. Sometimes, hope looks like whispering a prayer through tears. Sometimes, it’s just getting out of bed each morning and trying again.

In the pages of the devotional, you’ll walk through reflections, Scriptures, and honest reminders of God’s nearness in the middle of real life - not the polished, picture-perfect kind, but the one where grace meets you in the beautiful messiness. Receive each day as an invitation to rest and to remember that even in the silence, God hasn’t gone quiet. Even in your hurting, He’s still Emmanuel, God with Us.