I’ve heard adults say that they’ve grown up; they don’t have birthdays anymore. I’m of the opinion that just because I’m old enough to use the oven to bake my own cake doesn’t mean I can’t eat it, too.
I turned 23 on Friday, and last week what I was most looking forward to about my birthday was getting it over with. My roommate moved home, my friends were either gone on vacation or already busy saving orphaned and neglected children, so acknowledging my anticipated loneliness made me feel needy and selfish. I wanted April 13 to be just another Friday. Note to self: cancel the pity party and spring for some cake.
Birthdays are beautiful because they’re a day to celebrate a life, not because of what someone has accomplished or contributed, not because life in general is itself a beautiful thing, but because one person came into the world on that day. No matter what they do or don’t do, they are here, they are alive, and that is something to be cherished and celebrated.
Birthdays are reminders that our entire lives are a gift regardless of what we do with and in them, and this was a reminder of the gift of normalcy and the beauty of God and work daily. They’re normal days, nothing out of the ordinary, but that’s what makes them so beautiful.
On my birthday, I woke up and had breakfast with my family – Mom Joyce and Lydia, a friend’s family who I truly feel like I’m coming home to after only 3 days. I went to work to fill out reports on prisoners released after being unlawfully imprisoned, schedule counseling for clients who have been abused, and deal with logistics of a training. I planned to attend a judgment in the afternoon, but beforehand, I wrote this in my journal over lunch:
“Today is not a birthday spent celebrating by taking a break from my “normal” life; today is a day to celebrate the gift that this is normal. Whether our clients are released or rescheduled yet again, whether our counselors are available to meet with their clients yet or not, this is something I want to spend my days working towards. The work may always be more than anyone can complete, but the gift of being able to fully engage in the process to help lift another’s burden and empower them to carry their load is how I want to live my life. It’s a birthday gift I realized this morning on the bus but that I’ve had all year. Thank God for life beyond birthdays.”
Two hours later in a silent courtroom, our clients were acquitted, found innocent, and set free. I have never seen such joy. Of the two clients, one had been in remand and had given up hope that he would ever be acquitted or even face judgment. When they led him back inside the holding room behind the court chamber after his not-guilty verdict was read and before taking him to the prison to be officially discharged, he turned around and saw IJM’s lawyer and me, bent over smiling and waved at us, exuding joy from his whole being. He was not only aware that hope still exists; he was living in it. As a 28 year old artist who speaks perfect English, he is the client I have most identified with. The day we first met in remand, we talked for half an hour, and then I asked how we could best pray for him. He said to pray that we would remain strong and continue working for justice and that we and our families would be blessed by God; that’s their prayer for us every day. I was moved and humbled.
If we had been born into different circumstances, if he had run a different errand the day he was arrested causing the police to target someone else around, we could have met in completely different circumstances: in at church, at the bus stop, or at the market. He reminded me so much of some of my friends; by bad luck because of an inefficient system, he just spent the past two years of his life in remand. While he was being discharged, I spoke with his co-accused who had been out on bail, attending court each time it was rescheduled wondering whether he would be reincarcerated for life or have the charges pending against him dropped. I have never seen anyone so happy. I asked him what his plans were, and he said “For my future? For today? For my life? To praise the Lord and thank him forever and ever.” That’s great! What about your family? Are you married? As he was telling me he had a wife and an eight year old daughter, he started making plans aloud for us to go see them that very second, so excited he completely forgot that our advocate was still inside. He had been given his life back.
This is what the everyday amounts to: while advocates attend court day after day for mentions, hearings, and judgments that don’t proceed, eventually, their persistence facilitates another’s freedom. Now my lunch break is over, and I’m off to call counselors, fill out reports, and update tracking tools. While I may never know if another soul reads them, I can type content knowing that two men once forgotten are now free. Who knows what the everyday will build in light of eternity?
tenthousandshadesofgrey 