The first birthday that I had after getting sick was my fifteenth, and I had been sick for close to eleven months at that point. I was living on an air mattress in our van and feeling pretty awful physically. Life was chaotic and exhausting, and I was just ready to be healthy again.

Actually, I’d also really been hoping for just one thing: to be able to have birthday cake (actually, ice cream is better) on my birthday. All I (thought) I wanted was just a birthday dessert to celebrate. The rest I could deal with, even though it really had been my goal to be healthy by my birthday.

As you may guess, that didn’t happen.

My family tried really hard to make my birthday fun and special. Birthdays are usually big deals in our family. They found a hot spring to go to, made me a parsnip and beef cake for breakfast (complete with candles), and rented a movie, even digging out our T.V. from storage, cleaning it off, and setting it up outdoors on the porch to finish the day off. Which, just so you know, was quite the ordeal. It had to be outside since the buildings had mold that was making me sick, and we were living in the middle of nowhere. And all that isn’t counting the great gifts they got me.

Watching a movie on our cabin porch in the middle of Montana.

Unwrapping a present, dressed as warmly as possible in June.

Typing all that I feel I really shouldn’t complain. But to be honest with you all, that day was one of the hardest birthdays I’d had. When no one was looking, the tears would escape. As I lay on my air mattress in our van in the pitch black, cold night (in June! That was new too.) I scribbled in my journal trying to thank God for where He had brought me in the last year, and trying to trust Him with where He might bring me in the next year, wondering where I would be on my sixteenth birthday. I don’t even remember if it crossed my mind that I might still be sick by then.

But I was.

I turned sixteen close to four months ago now. And you know what? I was even sicker. Unable to get out of bed at all, stomach revolting against even the smell of the plainest food.  I was not even able to have ‘normal’ presents anymore (see here). In pain, weak, and unable to even dress myself, you’d think this birthday would be worse. However, it wasn’t.

I’d known for weeks before it that it was probably not going to go well health-wise. I was disappointed. But recalling my previous birthday, I decided I didn’t want a repeat. Though physically I was worse, there was something else that made all the difference: my attitude.

You see, I realized the important truth that an awesome birthday wasn’t ‘my right’. It wasn’t something that I deserved. Often, holidays and celebrations can be difficult for those with chronic illness. And for good reason. But often, we could make it easier on ourselves.

The human spirit can endure in sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear? -Proverbs 18:14 (NIV)

Armed with this lack of expectations and entitlement, I can honestly say that my sixteenth birthday was one of my most precious. Again, my family did all they could to make is special. Since I wasn’t well enough to have a birthday party, they had lots of friends and family friends write beautiful letters of encouragement (thank you all so much!).  We took the day slowly, ate raspberries for dessert, and again watched a new movie together. Because God helped me to have a cheerful attitude, I truly enjoyed the day. Try it. You never know! 🙂