It’s my birthday today. I’m so glad to be 54. I prefer the nice, even numbers for some reason. It just feels more balanced to be an even number. Plus, I’m just so grateful to be alive and healthy — to be loved and forgiven.This particular birthday is making me especially grateful for some of the specific mercies of God that allowed me to even exist. I’m grateful for…
The little church where my maternal grandparents met.
The buggy ride that convinced my paternal grandmother to marry my grandfather. (instead of the other guy)
The miracle that brought my mother through rheumatic fever — twice.
The lost paperwork that delayed my dad’s induction into the army and kept him stateside while his buddies went to war.
The wedding of my Uncle Roscoe and Aunt Lila where my mother first saw my handsome soldier father.
The basketball tournament where my mother served the soldier coffee until he nearly floated away.
The decision they made to have and to hold from this day forward nearly sixty years ago.
The providence of God that allowed me to be born into such a family as this one fine November day.

I’m blessed.