For the last couple months I’ve been working with a group of ladies who are preparing for a talent show. We meet every week or two, they actually practice in between (image that), and the performance is in a few weeks. Anyway, we met tonight, and after we exchanged pleasantries, I went right into work mode. “How’s practice been going?” I said. Well, I was listening, but I was turned away, plugging my phone into a speaker. But then I turned around, and all three of the girls–outfitted in party hats–started blowing those irritating little noise maker things.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they said.

Talk about a surprise. (My birthday was last week.) All I could do was smile and laugh. I mean, there are days when I seriously doubt whether or not it’s worth it to wake up before three in the afternoon in order to go to work, but today was not one of them. And did I mention there were cupcakes–like–fancy cupcakes with fruit, candy, chocolate, and chocolate? Of course, I just started a diet a two days ago, but when Jesus gives you fancy cupcakes, you eat them with gratitude, damn it. Oh, and there was singing! I tried to record it, but–not surprisingly–my phone was in selfie mode. Anyway, here it is.

This evening I shared the cupcakes with my parents, and my Dad asked how the ladies knew it was my birthday. I said, “Probably Facebook–it tells you every time someone goes to the bathroom.” Or who knows? Maybe it was the blog. I forget that people can (and do) read it. Today my mom told my aunt on the phone, “I learn more about my son on the internet than I do living with him.” Fair enough, Mom, but it’s hard to have a conversation when The People’s Court is turned up so loud. (“DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?!”)

But I digress.

After dance rehearsal with the girls, I ate a cupcake before getting in my car. My all-or-nothing personality tried beating me up for not following my diet one hundred percent, but–really–that part of my personality is a serious stick-in-the-mud asshole. So I just looked at him and said, “These are birthday cupcakes from Jesus–back off!” The other temptation I faced was to screw the diet completely and go out for fried chicken and margaritas. But tonight I stayed strong–I didn’t eat fried chicken. Rather, I cooked a healthy meal at home.

And then ate another cupcake. (Thank you, lord.)

About the time the ladies were getting ready to wish me happy birthday, one of my aunts and I were texting about potting soil. My therapist recently recommended that I buy a plant, so I’ve been talking to my aunt about how to repot it. (She has a green thumb.) Anyway, you know how some people–like my therapist–don’t like to text, so they pick up the phone and literally call you? (The nerve.) Well, that’s what my aunt did tonight. There I was playing Shania Twain on my phone, these ladies were killing it on the dance floor, and all of a sudden we were interrupted by my ringtone.

Of course, my aunt had no way of knowing. Later, when I was eating my first cupcake, I listened to the message she left. I assumed she was talking to my father, unaware she was actually leaving a message. (Technology is hard.) “He’s texting me but not answering his phone–Marcus Coker, answer the damn phone–I guess I’d better watch what I’m saying, it might be recording it.”

Why yes, yes it is.

After a while, I called my aunt back. She didn’t answer at first, then she did, so I said, “Answer your damn phone,” and we had a good laugh about the whole thing. Then she told me what I needed to repot my plant, and I went to Lowe’s and got it.

Tonight I added the card the girls got me to the others I’ve received this year. On the outside the card said, “Yes, this birthday card is late.” Then on the inside it said, “Pick up the pieces of your shattered life and move on.” Funny right? There’s something about an actual card, the fact that someone took the time to pick it out. I guess it makes you feel–special. Just today I got another card in the mail. It was from my friend Marla and said, “I’m so glad you were born.” Then Marla added, “Thank goodness your parents had unprotected sex!”

After dinner I went for a walk and listened to Caroline Myss talk about creative archetypes. She said our tendency as humans is admit what we can’t do rather than admit what we can do. Like maybe you make something, and someone says, “That’s gorgeous,” but you say, “Oh, this old thing, it’s nothing.” But that’s not really true–it’s something!–and you made it. I know I often do this with the things I make. What’s more problematic, perhaps, is the fact that I do this with myself. One of my birthday cards this year said, “You’re an amazing person and friend,” and part of me thought, They’re just being nice.

This is something I’m working on. One of my affirmations lately has been, “I’m willing to accept gifts from the universe,” and I’m learning that includes compliments, cupcakes, and birthday cards. That includes little celebrations. Of course, if you accept someone else’s celebration of you at face value–if you don’t dismiss it in some way–that means you have to also accept the idea that you are worthy of celebrating, that YOU are something. For me, coming around to this idea–sometimes–is like my aunt trying to figure out voicemail. The struggle is real. But days like today help–every encouraging note and cupcake helps to remind me that I’m here, we’re all here, and we’re all worthy of little irritating noise makers, dancing, and all good things, including family members who answer their damn phones.

[Jonelle, Sharon, Nesa–you rock. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Aunt Tudie, I love you.]