(Sacred Ordinary – November 2025)
Today, he turns fifty-one.
A number that once might have felt like just another year, another ordinary birthday.
But now, it feels like grace.
Because there was a moment, not so long ago, when I wasn’t sure we’d get here.
When the sound of monitors filled the room instead of laughter, and I prayed for more time, just one more birthday.
And now here we are.
He’s fifty-one.
He’s here. Breathing, laughing, still sometimes quiet in the ways that make me ache, but here all the same.
I look at him now and see not just a man a year older, but a man who’s fought his way back to living.
A man whose heartbeat feels like a gift I get to keep hearing.
Maybe that’s what birthdays really are not reminders of getting older, but proof that we’re still being given time.
Proof that love can survive the hardest storms and still come home.
So today, I won’t just celebrate his age.
I’ll celebrate his breath.
His laughter.
The way his eyes soften when he looks at me.
And the miracle of one more ordinary day made holy by the simple fact that we’re both still here.
🌿 Happy 51, my love.
