Monday was my birthday, Naturally I woke up with all kinds of expectation and hope. After all, birthdays, by their very nature, are supposed to be full of special surprises, right?

I purposely waited to come downstairs. I didn’t want the boys to make a fuss (like they would anyway, but I can always hope…). I wanted to savor my day and not have all the excitement slip away before I had my coffee. As a matter of fact, Sheila gave me her gift but I refused it, preferring to open it after supper. I wanted the timing and atmosphere to be just right. I wanted the day to be done. I wanted to be all warm and cozy-like and surrounded by the famfam.

Still, refusing my gift was difficult, especially without any caffeine coursing through my veins. Such self-control is rarely seen anywhere in the world, let alone in our living-room, but there you have it, this birthday, this forty-seventh birthday, was nothing to leave to chance or impulse. After all, I only have so many good birthdays, left, so I was a rock, a quivering rock, because I was vibrating with anticipation, but a rock nonetheless.

Then it began: a report on Breakfast Television said that British experts of some description had crunched the stats and found that January 22 is the most depressing day of the year. It seems that the mid-winter blahs mix with the January post-Christmas Visa bills and a strong depression starts to form clouds over everyone’s heads.

I tried hard not to take the news personally. After all, no one had suggested that my existence was somehow responsible for making January 22nd the most depressing day of the year. More to the point, everyone knows that experts are regularly mistaken and stats can be used to prove or disprove pretty much anything, so I remained unconvinced. Still the exuberant expectation of my special day was slightly tarnished, if only for a moment. The fact that I heard the same news several more times on the radio didn’t help. Yet another reason to turn the news off, if I really needed another reason, which I didn’t!

Off I went to work. The Monday blahs met me at the door, but I pushed them aside and proceeded to get the essentials done because Sheila, my lovely bride was taking me out for lunch. We had a wonderful lunch and the rest of my day went well, even though one of my boys was continually asking me if I knew what the date was! He obviously gets his cruel humor from his mother!

After I had my cake and presents and an enjoyable evening all around, I reflected on the fact that my birthday just happens to fall on the most depressing day of the year and I began to take pleasure in the fact that my birthday just became notoriously negative. After all, doesn’t such news make the day just that much more special?

I feel sorry for those who are born on March 21st, the first day of spring. How can you compete with that? Or July 1st or 4th, I mean, people are going to celebrate on those days anyway, so what if they celebrate your birthday too. Big deal! Just throw a couple more dogs on the BBQ—you call that a birthday celebration? Then there are those poor souls who have Christmas as their birthday. Who is ever going to see that as a plus? At Christmas we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the Son of God. We celebrate the single greatest event in the history of the world. Any other birthday is anti-climatic, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise (no offense to Christmas babies, you have my deepest sympathies).

The way I see it, the fact that I was born on the most depressing day of the year is a blessing. If ever there was a day we needed a reason to celebrate something, January 22nd is that day and it also just happens to be my birthday! So, I have a reason to take the worst day of the year and turn it upside down and make it a celebration. The rest of the world has to suffer through it in all its cold, harsh reality. I can escape its sting and not feel guilty about making it a “me” day.

Of course, all this seems so very familiar to me because, as a Christian, I am used to having God take the bad and turn it into something positive. He’s done it time and time again in my life and I’ve seen Him do it in so many other lives as well. Our God excels at turning the negative into something positive. Don’t believe me? Just look at the cross. That day was the darkest day to ever come our way, but God transformed it into something that brings pure, eternal hope to all who believe. Good Friday gave way to Easter Sunday, now that’s the ultimate bad made good, but such an act wasn’t a one time thing. It is very much part of God’s nature to continually redeem our failures and fears and make them worthy of sticking on His cosmic fridge. He is just that kind of a God of surprises.