God said no.

I turn 40 tomorrow — let's talk about hot dogs and holy things

Dear friend,

Tomorrow I turn 40. Over the years I have celebrated my birthday in many ways, from pasta parties to French 75 cocktails to casual gatherings at home. Though all have been special, the details of them have long since passed from my memory — they’re now simply woven into the tapestry of my life. And it’s been a great life so far!

This year, I’ll be celebrating my birthday quite casually — the day is sandwiched between homeschool coop days and end of year activities in perhaps one of the busiest seasons of life to date.

Though it was 19 years ago now, one of the last birthdays I can recall distinctly was my 21st. I remember this birthday because a) I ate a hot dog from a gas station, which if you know me at all, you know is unbelievably uncharacteristic and b) I met Stuart the following weekend. Life, as they say, would never be the same.

The day we met, I had yet to fully battle with the blood-bath that is the Christian conversion, tumultuously living with one foot in and one foot out of my faith. Scripture calls this sort of faith “lukewarm”; I think this is putting it quite kindly. What I was living in at that time, on that birthday all those years ago, was little more than the filth. I was wrestling. I was wallowing in a pigsty of my own making. My friend Audrey often says “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” and so it was. This was a birthday I spent winning stupid prizes for playing stupid games.

And then came my 22nd birthday.