Yesterday was my 32nd birthday. I had some family time, some time with friends, and some cupcakes. Life is good.
But here's the thing. My birthday has been different for the last two years.
My college roomate and dear friend, Christina, lost her brother in a tragic car accident two years ago. On my birthday.
Now, I only met William a couple of times. But I heard about him almost daily. I didn't get to know him all that well personally, but I knew that he was an amazing, faithful, and super fun guy because Christina was always telling stories about the crazy things Will would do on their farm, the cabin that he built, and the ways that he had been generous to his family.
I will continue to be joyful each year on my birthday. When my dad passed away I realized that old age is not a burden, as some people make it out to be. It's a gift. God has been kind to grant me another year and I am grateful.
But I think there will always be that reminder for me on August 2nd.
I won't pretend to understand why I got to celebrate another birthday and William didn't. Death rarely makes sense. I hate that while I am opening gifts, my friend and her precious family are grieving.
But I know this. Every year on my birthday, I will celebrate. And I will think of William. And I will take the time to feel the summer breeze on my skin. I will ask myself if I am who I want to be. I will remind myself that our lives are just a breath. I will thank God for his forever plan. I will pray for my friends. And I will look forward to the day when death is no more,
