Birthday!

I am 48 today.

I love a birthday, like an overlook on route to the mountain top, a moment of pause to admire the view granted only by the fortitude – step by step – that came before.

This year my birthday feels more about my mother than myself.

My mom, my Momma-Lu, Judy Irene, The Doodlest, Your Majesty, French Aloof, Cuuuuutie, Never-A-Dull-Moment…

Her nicknames abound. 

My mom and my husband and myself live together in the house where I grew up, and lately my mom has been needing more help from us than she used to. I don’t mean to overstate this point. It’s subtle, but still true: The gravitational center of our little solar system has shifted.

When people hear that we live together, they say, “Your mom is so lucky to have you.”

When they hear about the ways I care for her, they say, “Make sure to take time for yourself.”

These are well-intended statements that come from a desire to support me. I don’t begrudge anyone who makes them, but I do see things differently.

What if we are just as much ourselves not only when basking in the wide-open warmth of pleasure, but also when navigating the twisted thicket of relationship?

What if other-care and self-care can exist in the same moment?

The luck leans both ways and it is not by chance. It is created by love.

—

When working with clients who struggle to maintain a helpful relationship with exercise, my first instruction is always the same: Move your body every day in a way that feels good to you.

Most nod and agree. Some roll their eyes.

Whether sincere or snarky, the basic response is the same, “Yeah. Yeah. I get it.”

I wish they would pause on the point for a beat longer. What I am trying to get at is the fitness-advice equivalent of what Mary Oliver said so perfectly, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

Love does not make things easier exactly. It doesn’t guarantee pleasure or success or health or anything tangible at all.

Love does, however, give life a distinct shape and infuses that shape with meaning. That meaning becomes the compelling force.


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