It's that time of year. Time for me to write up a list, send out invitations, and buy a cake. Yep, I'm talking about my birthday. I didn't actually tell anyone because I get uncomfortable when people wish me happy birthday. I don't know what it is- something about being the center of attention causes me to freeze like a deer in headlights. It's the same awkwardness that overtakes me when people compliment me, and I almost always answer with "you too!" then uncomfortably walk away like an idiot.
Although only a small handful of people knew it was my special day, and the morning started with three solid hours of New Testament studies, my twentieth was the best birthday of my life.
I spent the afternoon swimming (read: burning on the beach like an albino in the midday July sun) in the Sea of Galilee. I skyped my parents for the first time in months. My classmates sang "Happy Birthday" to me in Hebrew. I played night games at a bonfire on the beach. I almost ruined my surprise birthday party, and was subsequently delighted by my surprise birthday party (no, but really- I love surprises). Finally, I ended the night with sparklers on the beach.
I'm 100% freaked out that I'm not any kind of teenager anymore, but 100% excited to welcome in a new decade.