September brings with it an end of summer, a start of another school year, and in our family, two birthdays: mine and my youngest daughter’s. (There’s also the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary (September 8), which provides yet another excuse for us to devour birthday cake!)
In a culture that devalues life, celebrating a birthday says, “I’m glad you were born. I’m blessed to know you. I enjoy spending time with you.”
My parents welcomed me in their mid-to-late forties, more than a decade after the younger of my two brothers. My brothers welcomed me as well, despite the fact it meant that eventually they had to share a room. I say eventually, because I think I slept in a crib in my parents’ room until I was five. (Maybe that’s the subconscious reason I’ve never used a crib with our kids. Hmmm . . . )
