Dear friend: when I almost cancelled the party

the inner work of listening to what I want and the loveliest celebration I've had in a long time, including the most thoughtful gift.

Dear friend,

There were so many reasons not to have a birthday party. June was already becoming a full month, and my birthday was the day before school let out for the summer. I’m in a season with little margin, as I’m breastfeeding every few hours and in the fullness of life with a baby and two big kids. When you already feel behind in life, does it make sense to add something optional? This also wasn’t a “significant” milestone birthday, like a new decade or anything that felt especially noteworthy. Hello, 37. Our house is small, and it can feel hard to host when outside is our best space for a group, and even that can be far from ideal on a busy road in warm, humid days.

Yet, I couldn’t help but notice that despite all this being true, I wanted a birthday party.

It has been some of my most important inner work over this last decade to create space to listen to the things I want. As someone who easily places others’ needs and desires before her own (I’m an eldest daughter, Enneagram Nine, former nurse and a mom), I’ve had plenty of practice of not listening to what I want or talking myself out of things, particularly in the name of caring for someone else. In this postpartum season where there already doesn’t feel like enough of me to go around, it felt important to name that I wanted a birthday party this year. I wanted to gather a few of my local friends, eat my favorite foods and good cake, and spend an afternoon together. I was struggling to think of much beyond that, and was feeling stuck with how to begin. I wondered if maybe, feeling stuck was an indication that this wasn’t a good time for a party, even a small one. Maybe there just wasn’t enough margin for that right now.

When I’m tempted to discount my desires, even “small ones,” I make myself tell someone safe and see if it sounds worth listening to, to their ears. My husband encouraged me to keep listening to this party dream. He is far from a party planner, so he didn’t have any specific help to offer, but thought of a friend with a true gift for ideas and creativity who might help me dream a little. Send her a text.

So, I did. I asked her for help thinking of a low-key, fun party. She was more than happy to help and quickly helped me dream up a book-ish tea party, offering to supply things for a bookmark making station. She thanked me for thinking of her and how it was a gift to be asked. I paused to notice how the dreaming and the gift of a friend coming alongside me were sweet and precious things. I already felt the gift in these early stages of listening to this desire, inviting my friend to be my fairy godmother of the day.

Invitations were sent out and the anticipation began to build. I started to figure out what we would eat together, and bought ingredients, only to get strep the week of the party. It felt like the worst timing, and I wondered if I’d need to cancel the festivities. But an urgent care trip and some antibiotics later, I was feeling myself and grateful to get to carry on.

It was the day before the party and I thought I had a realistic amount of prep to do for a summer day with kids at home and a baby to care for. But I couldn’t have predicted the way the day would play out, with more needs and meltdowns than normal. I felt defeated. I cried that afternoon, feeling sure I’d have to cancel with so much left undone and feeling completely spent. I felt stupid for wanting a party that felt too much in that moment. I wished I hadn’t let myself dream of something so lovely, only to feel it slipping away.

But my husband encouraged me not to cancel. He said he knew my friends would help me, if only I would ask, if that’s what was needed to still make this happen. He offered to help me with what was left to do, if he could. I dried my eyes, and resolved to keep holding onto the fragile hope of this gathering. So, after the children were all in bed, I took a shower and prepared to make scones at 9pm. My husband grated frozen butter while I mixed gluten free flour and baking powder. I went to bed, tired but hopeful.

The morning of the party came, and everything went to plan, in stark contrast to the day before. I baked the scones, frosted the cake and put chicken in the crockpot to be ready for our picnic. I had space to pick flowers for the table, and put on a pretty dress and braid my hair. I felt the excitement in my whole body as I let myself believe that this dream was becoming real.

My guests arrived, greeting me with hugs and bouquets. We drank iced tea and lemonade. We ate chicken atop a wonderful salad, and dreamy scones (that you would never know were gluten free) with whipped cream and jam. We devoured slices of German chocolate cake that I’d made and chocolate covered strawberries, brought by a friend.

And then I got to open one of my gifts, one of the most thoughtful things I’ve ever received. My dear friend who wasn’t even able to make it when the day came, had made me a personalized Guess Who board, featuring Jane Austen characters. I am still blown away at the kindness of this time-intensive, beautiful bookish present. It utterly thrills me, and was completely delightful to play that day. (Where else do you get to ask questions like, Are you a scoundrel? Are you a likeable sibling? Are you prone to fits of temper? Would you be pleasant to be married to?)

We spent a lovely afternoon together, soaking up the shade and treats, making bookmarks and conversation. It was one of the best days in recent memory. I went to bed that night with reverse-Christmas-morning syndrome. My wonderful day had already happened and instead of anticipation keeping me from sleep, the joy of so much goodness kept me awake. I literally couldn’t sleep because my heart felt so full of gratitude and delight.

I told myself that I would work hard to remember the gift of listening to what I wanted, even when it didn’t feel convenient or make the most sense. I don’t want to forget the way the joy and goodness outweighed the second-guessing, the vulnerability of needing help, the hurdles to get to what I wanted. I won’t pretend that this is a formula: that all you have to do is listen to what you want and what you want will be waiting on the other side of your efforts. I know sometimes disappointment meets our dream and despite our best work, it still doesn’t get to happen.

But I’m holding onto the goodness of celebrating, that it is worth showing up to celebrate even in less than ideal circumstances. I’m holding onto the trust that I’m building with myself by not ignoring the things I want and choosing to listen. I’m holding onto the goodness of the people I get to share life with in this season. Being with people who love me is such a precious gift.

Dear friend, I hope the story of my party and all the behind-the-scenes glimpses is a gift to you. I hope it encourages your heart towards celebrating and holding onto goodness, listening to the dreams and desires of your heart.

I’ll leave you with these words from therapist Nicole Zasowski, from her book, What If It’s Wonderful? (which I definitely recommend if joy feels vulnerable or you’d like to grow in the area of celebration AND is currently $8.50 on sale at the time of sending this):

Celebration is not a means of escaping the reality that our hearts are brutally bruised but keeps us grounded in the truth that both our heartache and our hope are true. The discipline of delight is not pretending. Celebration is not avoidance.

Celebration looks at a broken world and recognizes that while we are not in total control, there are actions we can take and choices we can make to acknowledge God’s goodness, practice celebration and participate in hope.

Celebration is God’s healing balm for our broken world and to our scarred hearts. It is the exercise of actively remembering and enjoying the goodness of God in our lives.

Dear friend, I'd love to hear from you. Feel free to just hit "reply" to this email. I read and savor every email that comes my way, even if I don’t always have the space to respond (which is often these days.) I’d be so glad to know what you’re celebrating, and if my words brought up anything to the surface of your heart today.

Warmly,

Alison