Made much of, by Deborah Jenkins

I love my March entry on the More Than Writers blog and I'm afraid it's for rather childish reasons. As my allocated day is the 11th, I get to post every year on my birthday. Now, some people of my age would rather forget this day. They don't like to think about growing older and they don't want a fuss. I am not one of those people. I love my birthday - it's my favourite day of the year. I get to feel special and celebrated, all day, without having to do anything at all, except be alive. There's nothing like it - the sense of being loved, evidenced by wrapped presents, coloured envelopes and smiling Happy Birthdays received at work or posted on Facebook. To be made much of, just because you were born. And we accept that everyone has that right, on the anniversary of their 'born' day. Isn't that just the most extraordinary thing?

When we look at people who are made much of in the everyday, it's a different story. They are celebrated because of looks or achievements or the fact they're important or rich. Now I genuinely love the royal family, despite my otherwise left-of-middle tendencies (illogical I know) but whenever someone royal cuts a ribbon or unveils a plaque, I want to laugh. Not because I don't think they should do things like that but because people applaud them. Why? Anyone could cut a ribbon or pull a string or spade a bit of dirt over a planted tree. But of course it's got nothing to do with what they've done, but because of who they are - gilded, removed, rarely venturing into the world of everyday things containing scissors and spades. To see them giving up their time to leave their gilded thrones and come to plant a tree or open a sports centre - well, it's quite a thing.

Funny really. I could feel that birthday feeling all year round if I wanted to. Doesn't the bible tell me I'm unique? I have been amazingly and miraculously made (Psalm 139:14), That God has good things in store for me? God plans to prosper me, to give me hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11), Doesn't He know everything about me? He knows when I sit down and stand up. He knows my thoughts even when I'm far away from Him? (Psalm 139:2-4) Won't He always be there fighting for me? The Lord is on my side. I will not fear. What can man do to me? (Psalm 118:6)

I am made much of, by God, not because of my looks or achievements, not because I'm a successful writer or pastor's wife or teacher (thank goodness), or because I went to the 'right' school or have important friends. Or even because it's my birthday. But because of who I am. And this particular 'I am' - the one made by God - senses his love partly through things like trees and fields and the way light falls on wood. She see it in starlight and snow and children and the kindness of strangers. And lamps in windows. She hears it in bird-song. These gifts are how he makes much of me. And I have the 'right' to grasp them with unrestrained joy because of Jesus.

But perhaps the most extraordinary gift of all is the fact that he came himself, from his gilded throne, to live with us in our messy everyday, venturing into the world of scissors and spades. To die at the hands of liars. But he came back, having put a lamp in the window of my room in heaven, because I'm special and celebrated. Made much of by God, on my birthday and every day.

Isn't that just the most extraordinary thing?

Click on the link to see the novella on amazon

Deborah Jenkins is a primary school teacher and freelance writer who has written articles, text books, devotional notes and short stories. She also writes regularly for the TES. She has completed a novella, The Evenness of Things, available as an Amazon e-book and is currently working on a full length novel. Deborah loves hats, trees and small children. After years overseas with her family, who are now grown up, she lives in East Sussex with her husband, a Baptist minister, and a cat called Oliver.