Thoughts on My 39th Birthday

What I wanted to tell you, at last, about spring break is this: we celebrated my thirty-ninth birthday. We also celebrated my brother's thirty-sixth.

There had been moments when I just wasn't sure we would make it. So much had happened among us: even just since I'd celebrated my thirty-eighth birthday, and my brother his thirty-fifth.

In the 365 days between my birthdays, Jim had undergone gastric-bypass surgery (and I'd acknowledged, signature on the line, risks up to and including death); my older nephew's elbow and fingers had been pinned back together after a serious ATV accident; my brother had gone paralyzed and, subsequently, undergone surgeries to insert a nerve stimulator in his back; and I'd undergone an emergency c-section to get Baby Chip, whom I'd been terrified over since (one month after a miscarriage) getting pregnant.

For the first time on this birthday, my thirty-ninth, we're all safely in the world. Everyone in my immediate family--including both the one into which I was born and the one my man and I have created--is here. We're a perfect dozen: the cookie-baker in me just loves that!

In the past 39 years, I've fought with my family. I've fought for them and wrestled with the Lord over them...just enough to know: for this and every birthday, they're all I want. They're the very best of what I have.

There were never any guarantees, and there still aren't. Every day we have is a gift. To know, feel, and really rejoice in it is another.

Mom and Clementine

My Dad, My Brother, and Chip

My Brother's Wife Sarah (and the godmother of all my children) with Chip

My Nephew CJ (AKA Evel Knievel)

Dad and Charleigh