A Happy Birthday Wish

I have to be honest: I have struggled a bit to think of how to start this. I know that it seems as though it should be a fairly easy thing to do. It's your birthday. I wanted to take the time to post on your blog - a project you care a lot about, a virtual scrapbook you work on every day. I wanted to write something meaningful, something you would be happy to read and share with other people. At the same time, I didn't want to write anything too sappy or cheesy.

At first, I thought I might give you a Top Ten list, a la David Letterman. But I quickly realized that not only would it be plagiarism, but that I am really not that funny, especially after midnight. So, after a lot of thinking, here goes:

Top Ten Gifts Melissa Has Given Me

10. A profound sense of gratitude for the simple things in my life.
9. An awareness that I have a lot of things to live up to.
8. A better set of priorities.
7. The hope of one day having fashion sense.
6. Cold feet, a bad back, eyes that don't quite work right, and a heart that seems bigger than it all
5. A reason to go to work and a reason to come home.
4. Countless unearned smiles, apologies, hugs, and kisses
3. A life I never thought possible
2. Two children that remind me that Heaven can be a place on Earth
1. Hearing her say, "I love you," and knowing words can't quite cover everything she feels.

Now, I know that the trend is to give the birthday person a gift on their birthday, and this list seems to be focused on things that she has given to me, which would seem to defeat that purpose. However, in my defense, I would like to make the following arguments:

• Most birthday gifts don't import well into blogs, so I had to improvise something
  
• Gratitude is the sincerest form of appreciation. I know that most mothers have moments when they feel a little invisible, that their efforts are unnoticed, that their lives only have meaning through others. I just wanted to take a moment to remind you that your work has not been unseen.

If I can get literary for a moment, I want to share with you what is probably my favorite memory for my time at BYU. While I was working on my degree in English, I took a class on the work of John Milton, a very famous English poet. He wrote hundreds of poems and essays, but there was one that had a lasting impression on me and I wanted to share it with you today.

This sonnet was written in the middle of Milton's career. It came at a very challenging time in his life: he had just begun going blind. He had planned to do many great and important things with his life and talent; suddenly, he had to reevaluate all of those goals. It is very likely that he experienced anger, frustration, depression, even despair during this time. But look at how he finally expressed his thoughts about his experience:

Sonnet 19
When I consider how my light is spent,
  Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
  And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
  My true account, lest He returning chide;
  "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
  Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best
  Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
  And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
  They also serve who only stand and wait."

Looking past the obvious connection in terms of eyesight, I think that what makes me think of Melissa when I read this poem is the closing line: "They also serve who only stand and wait." At first glance, this would seem to be a paradox. How can someone serve by standing and waiting? (Sounds like something only a man could say, right?) But in the six years we have been together, with all the driving, all the late night feedings, all the things you ask me to do because you simply can't do it yourself, I have come to a realization.

I don't do any of those things as a service; they are a thousand little "I love you's" that you let me say every day. It is such an honor to be your husband. To think that a certain number of years ago, the Lord finally decided the world was ready for you to come, and that out of all the people you could have chosen to be with you, you picked me.

I know in the beginning that I said that I didn't want to put anything too sappy in this blog, but notice that the emphasis was on "too..." I just wanted to close with part of a poem I heard on a movie once,

[...] I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way


than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

(Pablo Neruda, Sonnet 17, 100 Love Sonnets)

I love you, Melissa.

Happy Birthday.