Positivity challenge but not a chain

My heart pounded when I found a chain letter addressed to me in the mailbox when I was about 10 years old. A chain letter for me!

I excitedly ran to the house ready to do my part.

After reading it carefully, I was to copy it, in handwriting, and send it on, by US Postal Service, to seven of my closest friends instructing them to do the same.

I'll also never forget my mother's reaction to my exciting chain letter.

"Absolutely not," she said. Seemed chain letters were the work of the devil in her eyes.

I never knew why she felt so strongly about a chain letter but the horrific feeling she instilled in me was everlasting.

A few days ago, I received a chain letter of sorts from a dear friend on Facebook.

I was invited to take part in a Positivity Challenge. I was to post three positive things for five days on Facebook and ask three friends to participate each day of the process by tagging them on their page.

That fateful chain letter day resonated in my head along with my mother's voice.

"Absolutely not," I could hear my mother say.

To this day, her influence runs deep in my veins. The memory of my mother's reaction paired with my fear of commitment, made me decline the invitation.

However, I loved the idea of being positive and appreciate my friend for stirring up positive thoughts and images in my mind ever since.

After days of pondering what is positive in my life, I realized many of my good thoughts come from the people I love and care for and what they are experiencing in their own lives.

*  My friend and her husband taking their beautiful newborn, baby boy home from the hospital

*  My friend enjoying a weekend visit from her son who now lives across the country
   
*  My father-in-law spending a month near his beloved Chesapeake Bay

*  My young friend who is like a daughter to me setting up her new kindergarten classroom

*  My nephew pastoring at his own church

Positive thoughts also flood into my mind when I think of the major moments in the lives of my family and the important times I have with family and friends.

*  My son on his first business trip

*  My daughter moving into her very own apartment

*  My upcoming weekend with my family of four

*  My weekends filled with good friends and good times

*  My monthly Bunco group with 11 treasured women

And, thanks to the little things in life, I see positivity around me from morning to night.

*  My cup of coffee every morning that greets me like a warm friend

*  A delicious cucumber from my neighbor's abundant garden

*  Looking up at the starry sky when I take the dog out at night

*  My dog's fast-wagging tail every time I look his way

*  My bag of bite-sized Dove dark chocolate squares with little messages in the wrappers

Fortunately, my list goes on and on. My cup runneth over.

I know my mother would approve of me recognizing all the positive thoughts in my life...
as long as it's not in a chain letter.

I love real mail delivered by the mailman too!
But, please, no chain letters.

No more tears

On my birthday, I often find myself singing the 1963 pop song, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

Interestingly or should I say oddly, as a child, I actually did cry every year on my birthday. It seemed the tears came after the candles were blown out and we were eating cake.

Don't misunderstand, I didn't have big overwhelming parties like the ones I threw for my children with lots of kids, Disney themes and guest performers.

My parties consisted of my parents, three siblings, two cousins and my best friend Alice. We simply gathered to eat cake.

But, even that seemed too much for me to handle.

When I was about four or five, I had an unexplainable fear of having my picture taken. Every time someone snapped a photo of me, I cried. A lot.

I have proof in a old, family photo album. In a small, square photograph, I'm sitting in front of my birthday cake holding my hand out in front of my angry, red, tear-stained face shielding it from the focus of the camera.

This unusual "fear of the camera" stage still amuses my brother to this day.

When I was seven, my aunt carefully brushed my hair and clipped it up into a fun party hair style. Wearing my favorite, blue jumper with white polka dots and sporting my cute up-do, I was feeling rather fancy as I blew out my candles.

Unfortunately, someone made a comment about my hair while I was eating cake. This sent me reeling and running to my room where I cried hysterically and viciously ripped the barrette from my hair. The memory remains oddly fresh in my mind.

I guess I just didn't like the attention.

All that has changed.

These days, I have to admit, I love my birthday. I happily accept all the well-wishes and attention that come my way.

I look forward to my dear friend making a lemon pound cake for me like my mother used to make.

I  can't wait to see how my husband will surprise me each year.

I anxiously await the arrival of the annual box filled with fun gifts from my sister.

I treasure the cards and emails I get from my family, friends and yes, even the stores I frequent.

I simply embrace everything about the day even though it means I'm getting older by the minute.

This year, as I blow out my candles on my homemade lemon pound cake, I will smile as I think of all the support and encouragement I have received this past year from my dear friends and family.

Although I won't be wearing my hair pulled up in a clip, I will allow my picture to be taken. And, I think I will switch up my tune, "It's my birthday and I'll smile cause I want to!"

Happy Birthday to me! And my blog!

Today, I share my birthday with my blog, Musings, Morals & Bees. It is one-year-old.

Thank you all who have supported and encouraged me as I've shared my musings on everything from Barbies to fireflies. Your support is an ongoing birthday gift!