April Is the Cruelest Month. Except.

Every April 23, I’m struck by how full and complicated this day is in my life.

A ridiculous number of beautiful friends celebrate their birthdays or anniversaries today. David and I went on our first date 11 years ago. My oldest little brother, my son’s namesake, was welcomed into Jesus’s arms 26 years ago. This year, as Jack is alternately chirping and growling in the background, the shades of grace are in full color.

My mom was big on “counting up” each day–April 23 is my annual reminder that grace is a shape-shifter I don’t always recognize, but has never really left my side.

I choose the hopeful complexity of thankfulness.


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