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Yesterday was my birthday. In our family over many years it seems tradition that one of us is unwell, often the birthday boy/girl. Specifically, it is always me who is ill on Mr. V's birthday and in the run up to it; sometimes one or more family members also join me. It's no new thing to be navigating illness and birthday baking simultaneously around here, put it that way. This time however, we were all down! All four of us have been unwell all week and the closer it got to my birthday, the worse we seemed to get, especially us two adults. It has been a particular heartless virus, attacking chests, throats and sinuses with no mercy and certainly no regard for birthday plans.

All that said, you would think I had a pretty rubbish day when it came to it. On paper it pretty much should have been. After a few difficult birthdays the past few years, Mr. V had determined that this one would be special and, God bless his incredible heart, he had organised various treats and surprises. All of them meant the world to me even though I'm well aware to many people they are everyday occurrences. One thing I've learnt from long term illness in the past, and chronic pain in the present, is to appreciate the "smaller" things in life. That probably sounds really pious so let me tell you, I frequently fall down on this one, whinging and grumbling - even if only inwardly - about what I don't have or what I can't do. We have that tendency, us human folk, to believe the lie that the grass is greener in everyone else's gardens without actually looking beyond the front gate.

Anyway, I try. I try to be thankful and actively aware of how very much I have to be grateful for but I admit that by Monday I was feeling glum. What a word. But that was me. Slightly self-pitying and miffed to be feeling like I was swallowing needles when I had looked forward to birthday cake. Hashtag first world problems.

As I woke up yesterday though, i felt real joy. We had all coughed our way through the night - a night even more broken and torturous than they usually are around here (yeah, Reubs is as big a fan of sleep as Noah!) - and we had each woken feeling even worse. But the joy was real. Of course I wished we'd been made miraculously well overnight but I was brought a cup of tea, given cuddles/sat on by my affectionate (and heavy) 21 month old and home-made cards and requests for food from my also affectionate (and always hungry) six year old. My thoughtful husband had dragged his poorly self to the shop the night before, dosed up to the eyeballs, just so that we would have birthday-ish food despite my insistence that it really didn't matter. I could not doubt that I was loved and that, despite the situation, he was determined to celebrate me. I got to FaceTime my Mum first thing and let her in on the usual morning chaos, including Reuben breakdancing and trying to eat polystyrene! I got to speak to my Dad and a number of friends. How great is technology at times!

Then even though we ended up unable to leave the house, I was let in on plans which had been afoot to get me out for a meal with my husband for the first time in years! It actually didn't matter in the end that we couldn't, it was the thoughtfulness of the aforementioned husband - and a number of wonderful friends who were in on the plan - that really touched me. Mr. V and Noah even made me an absolutely divine Lindor chocolate cheesecake for my birthday cake....at 6.30am!

So truly, what is there to complain about in light of the above?
Sore throat? So what!

We spent the day just resting and playing in the house, provoking Reuben's infectious chuckle as often as we could, eating naughty treats and cuddling up with Noah to watch Trolls at last. It was simple but genuinely special. Each time I looked outside, I'm sure the rain had become even heavier and the wind even gustier. It was the kind of day when being outside just isn't enjoyable, unless you're geared up with your wellies and waterproofs. You know the ones: you're guaranteed hideous hair the moment you step outside, you'll be soaked through within two minutes and spend the rest of the day damp and cold; you'd rather just cancel the day and batten down the hatches. Well, illness means you have to, there's no choice. And that also means there's no guilt. Think about it, when you're poorly, you just have to rest, but when you choose to spend a day just chilling on the sofa and forgetting the outside world for the fun of it*, there's an inevitable guilt. If I had simply chosen to laze around indoors for my birthday, it would have felt like a waste of a day but because none of us were well, the decision was well and truly out of our hands. I felt like God started to gently show me how much of a blessing that was going to be.

I found my school yearbook the other day, from fifteen years ago and under the section that asked where I hoped to be in twenty years time, I had written something about living happily, near to beautiful countryside, "hopefully with a family". There are technically five years to go but I already have that dream. I don't ever want to take it for granted; not everyone is so fortunate. I am well aware that the way I got to celebrate turning thirty three yesterday would be an absolute dream come true for so many people. Toasty warm house, cosy duvet on the sofa with people I love, eating good food and with various medicines readily available to us as and when we needed. I am blessed. And not because of anything I've done but because of grace. I didn't earn any of it and I may not always have it. None of us know what tomorrow holds. While we have what we have, it is so important to be thankful for it.

So no, given the option of course I wouldn't have chosen to be ill. I like the sound of the nice things Mr. V had planned. And yet somehow, against the odds and because of a serious injection of joy from my Good, Good God (via his beautiful, beautiful humans), it was one of my best birthdays yet. It was probably our last family birthday before the upcoming house move. I feel like God blessed us with illness in order for us to make final precious memories here. I'm genuinely grateful.

*I know, I laughed out loud as I even typed that. I know, it happens as often as an earthquake in the U.K.!