My birthday was earlier this month. The weather was perfectly autumnal, crisp and brisk and colorful. My parents, brother, and I ate at Texas Roadhouse, where I was coerced onto the Birthday Saddle, blushed through a rousing “Yee-Haw!” and nearly kicked a passing waitress as I dismounted.
It was a wonderful day. Simple. The days of pink parties with little girls are done, and as fun as they were then, I’m glad things are quieter now. I must be getting old, because all I really wanted was food and family. (And a nap.) In fact, I kept forgetting it was my birthday—it felt like just another day. Seven-year-old me, with her alphabetized party plans, Barbie-themed favors, and birthday countdown calendar would have been appalled. Is any day so magical, so meaningful, as one’s birthday? Twenty-four-year-old me says Yes. Every day.
Every day is wondrous.
God’s been growing me. Revealing that He infuses every day, not just “special days,” with awe-inspiring gifts and moments. The scent of woodsmoke, dryer-warmed blankets, conversations with safe people. Cozy moccasins for my feet, long hugs from the kiddos, fresh oatmeal raisin cookies. Love from family, encouragement from friends, and tenderness from a great Redeemer who doesn’t need me but cares enough to save and shape my heart.
My birthday was wonderful, but it was just another day. Another glorious, miraculous, God-given day.
“This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”—Psalm 118:24
“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”—Psalm 90:12