The Gift of Time

When I was a kid, the perfect birthday was simple. Cake, presents, and the chance to eat as much sugar as I wanted without anyone telling me to stop. People gave me gifts just for being alive? Holy crap, what a deal.

In my teenage years, the day was about hanging out with friends. No big plans, just laughter, music, and maybe a place to crash for the night. I didn’t have to pay for anything, which was great because I was broke, and that alone made it feel special.

My twenties were different. I was starting a family, figuring out what it meant to be a husband and a dad. I loved my little family, but honestly, I felt lost. Birthdays were fine, but they were overshadowed by the constant question in my head: What am I doing? Am I even doing this right?

In my thirties and forties, I was fighting a battle I didn’t fully understand. Depression was a quiet thief, and every day felt like a fight just to get through. It wasn’t until Elisabeth convinced me to get help, to go to counseling, that I started to understand why I felt the way I did, and how good life really was.

Now I’m sitting here on my 53rd birthday, coffee in hand, reflecting in the quiet of the morning. And I see it clearly. I’m incredibly lucky. I have an amazing wife who is also an incredible mother. Two remarkable humans call me Dad and

watching how fiercely they live their lives inspires me every day. My parents are still with us and still married, now preparing to move from Texas to Tennessee. My brothers are thriving.

What else could I ask for?

Well, there is one thing.

I have friends who are struggling right now. My friends Paul and Linda are facing a serious medical crisis. I think about them every day. My friends are few but close, and I wish I could do more than send prayers, positive thoughts, and my time.

If I could choose anything for my birthday, it wouldn’t be for me. It would be for the health, safety, and love of my family and friends. I’d give up every birthday, every Christmas, every gift for the rest of my life if I could bring that to them.

Because the greatest gift isn’t cake or presents or even time for myself. It’s knowing the people you love are okay.