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Hi, I’m Kevin 👋. Product Manager at Trakt and creator of Rippple. If you’d like to support what I'm building, you can download Rippple for Trakt, explore the open source project, or go Trakt VIP.

 
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from AnOublietteofThought

For the majority of this past week, my focus was on Phoebe. I am in a unique position to be able to make that happen, so I did. As I sit here thinking about it, I realize that I was doing more than I consciously really allowed myself to think about. I think I swiftly processed the situation and then started putting in parameters to ensure that she would have the best possible outcome available once I was not there to provide it.

Aside from outside noise, the obnoxious AC, or other people's noise coming through the walls, my apartment is silent most of the time. I will have music playing sometimes, or put on a movie, but that is not the constant. Also, if I'm listening to music I usually have noise-canceling headphones on. For me, I prefer a room as quiet as I can possibly make it, generally speaking. My wind chimes are a constant, both outside and inside my apartment. I find it peaceful. They straight up lower my anxiety levels. I even dangle them from the canopy bar of my bed. Every subtle movement creates an almost imperceptible chime. If I really want it to trill for a bit, I just have to shake my bed. Phoebe really enjoyed that.

I say all of this, because I know that noise can be a big factor with anxiety in cats. They get accustomed to what they are around. I did not know how loud or quiet the environment she would be going into would be. So I did something to try to prepare her as best as I could. The television was on most of the time with various background sounds from a variety of movies and programs. Including those with animals. At certain times I would also play storms so that she could hear thunder, lightning, and rain and not be bothered. Obviously, I could not create the physical sensations of it but at least the sound became predictable for her. A brief pop-up had startled her early on, and made me think on it.

There were a variety of endeavors I sought to teach her. From grooming herself, to not attacking things that might break because most people won't handle that well. To comprehending the effect of her actions. For example, getting her claw stuck in something. Instead of rushing to fix it, I gave her time to figure out how to fix it herself while still being there and supporting her in the effort. After all, it important that she's able to do that and also distinguish danger. She learned part of using a litter box is not pouncing or walking through what she just defecated. At least she's working on it. No point in announcing everything, but I think/hope I was able to seamlessly demonstrate a variety of lessons in our day-to-day interaction and play.

She spent Friday night with my ex, and went to her new forever home on Saturday afternoon after spending the day in my ex's area of his office. He said he closed off the area with cubicle partitions and let her do as she liked inside it. I am told that after about 15 minutes of riding in the car she got curious and started observing as well as playing, and then sleeping in her carrier. That once arriving at where he lives, she ate, used the restroom, explored, investigated him, played, and went to sleep. He says they played quite a bit and she happily pounced and did the little hunting scenarios that is play for cats. He says that she snuggled with him the way our cats would snuggle with him when they chose to sleep beside him. Which was curled up in the crook of his armpit. He, too, has a soft spot for animals. Cats in particular. I'm sure he was also doing what he could to help her thrive.

I have been told she tried to groom his beard a few times, and that she did not once run from nor try to hide from him. And that she intentionally sought out being petted. She does really enjoy being stroked and petted. I am also told that she was a very big hit at work, which I am sure she was, because she is the epitome of cuteness. He said that pretty much everyone came to see her, and that instead of running away or being uncomfortable, she chose to pounce and show affection towards others. He says she got a lot of loving from a variety of people and ate up every second of it as opposed to being scared or nervous by it. That the entire business was eating out of the palm of her paw, including the woman she was going home with.

He also said that she hit it off really well with that woman, and she snuggled and purred away on her chest. He reassured me, again, that it was a very cat-loving home, and that from how the woman spoke of her prior cats that it sounded like she treats her cats in the manner that we treated ours. Which means they are spoiled rotten and family. Not pets. That is everything that I could want for her. So I really hope that it is true. He sent me photos. Her demeanor was very unstressed. So that gives me hope.

One of the many highlights of our time together was her discovery of herself. She likes to climb, and she also liked to play in the litter box if left to her own decision making about it. So I closed the door to my bathroom. She would go to it if she needed to use the restroom. To which I would then open it, and everything would happen. On the bedroom facing side of the door, I have a full length mirror. In front of the door beside one of my bookshelves, I have a closed fabric laundry hamper. I just so happened to have a hard laundry basket on top of it, because sometimes I just leave it there instead of bringing it back to my laundry area. Because she likes to climb, she would climb up the laundry hamper and jump into the plastic basket because it was like a giant slip-and-slide for her. Basically, she could go wild in it. I was very concerned she was going to knock it off, so I put it on the floor for her to go wild in. She still likes to climb, so she did. Which left her with a large space on top of the hamper lid to play on. It also gave her a very clear view of her reflection.

Initially, she did think it was another cat. She approached. She pounced backwards. She did the skitter jump-walk. She batted at it. She meowed for my attention. Etc. I could tell that she didn't quite know what to make of it. That she recognized there was a cat there that wasn't there. At one point, she started trying to look around the other side of the mirror. I stepped in shortly after that.

I picked her up and stood in front of the mirror and demonstrated petting her while continuing to speak to her, and telling her that it was her and me. While she was playing with it prior, I was also telling her that it was her. Once I felt her relax in her observation, I placed her back atop the hamper and let her explore a bit more herself. She walked up to the mirror and placed her paw upon it. She looked back at me then back towards her reflection and at her paw. She walked from one end to the other, watching her reflection. I told her that she was beautiful wasn't she? That she was very smart. And I asked her what she thought of her reflection.

She double-checked again in multiple ways to make sure that it wasn't a real cat. She used her paw upon the mirror in multiple ways, and turned this way and that looking at herself. I watched as realization dawned upon her. I witnessed her exploring her own reflection and comparing what she saw in the mirror to what she saw as she would look at herself. And I heard her happy purrs rev up the more she understood what was happening. When I asked her what she thought about it all, she ran up into my arms and gave my jaw a nip, then looked back over her shoulder at the reflection of the mirror. She seemed exquisitely happy. After that point, she gained some type of confidence that appeared to firmly center her within herself. It was a wonderful thing to witness.

I think that this past week also demonstrated my lack of trust in others, and the depth of my control issues with my environment and various scenarios. I have had to acknowledge, and am still in the act of acknowledging, how much it is driving me insane that I cannot control the outcome of her environment to ensure that she knows only happiness and contentment. I was able to give her some skills to help her adapt, but I have no control over what is occurring where she now is. I admit that the unknown of that is driving me a little bit insane, but I am working through it.

He told me that though I am always in the moment and focus absolutely on who or what is there, that he learned my mind is always at least a dozen steps ahead of that moment subtly adjusting everything for the best possible outcome. I do not think that is actually true. Partially, yes. I do think it's very dependent upon the situation. I also think a lot of it is subconscious, and I don't realize that I do it. I do know that having no way to understand what environment she was going to find herself in has driven me nuts. Preparedness is very important to me. As is the ability to think on the fly. I really hope that she will have both the confidence in herself, and the ability to do those things. I admit that I am still following possibilities through my mind, and contemplating how she might respond.

She is self-aware. Has learned how to demand her outcome and speak up for her wants in a situation. She is fully capable of wrapping a human around her paw just by being her adorable self, and I made sure to hone her hunting instincts a bit more. Obviously, everything still needs practice, but she's been given the encouragement on how to take in a room and either observe or own it. She understands the value of tenderness, and I am pretty sure she has learned that sometimes using her claws is the better reaction.

I think that my lesson in this week has been that we have to sometimes acknowledge that we can only give our best within the parameters of a situation, and that those parameters might suck. I know this. I have known this. Accepting it for myself is much easier than accepting it for someone else. Especially if that someone else is a teeny tiny bundle of fur.

Because I have not slept well, and her departure increased my stress, it should not have surprised me to experience a few hypnagogic hallucinations as I crossed the threshold towards sleep. It is something I do on occasion, though it is infrequent. I have felt my own cats before, and seen them, though they passed on some time ago. I felt her both Friday and Saturday when I went to bed. Both were very brief, but very clear moments.

When these things happen, part of me wishes to believe that it is real. Before I learned about such hallucinations, I did think it was real. Every aspect of sensory stimulation is there. Were I blindfolded and not aware that she actually was not in the room, I would have thought it really happened. The moments feel that real. However, the more I read about the brain, the more I am unable to have such beliefs. Sleep, and the thresholds crossed to and from it, are very intriguing. I am very enamored with understanding reality. The word itself is humorous. That is far too deep of a topic to begin writing on after I've already written so much already.

I think this week has been good for me. Caring for her was without a doubt a precious gift to me. I would not trade it for the world, and I'm really really happy that I got to bathe her in an abundance of love and affection.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

 
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from Lastige Gevallen in de Rede

Overleven in het tijdperk van ongekend zinloos talent

Ik kan wel door de grond zakken jij lekker niet jij kan naar de hel lopen en dat kan ik dan weer niet Ik kan wel door de grond zakken zij kan dat ook al niet zij kan het zwart voor de ogen zien en dat kunstje beheers ik dan weer niet Ik kan als enigste hier door de grond zakken een eigenschap waar ik trots op ben ook al is dit een nutteloos talent zij ziet het zwart voor ogen, jij loopt heel langzaam naar de hel en anderen krimpen van de pijn ineen maar van hen kan er niet een wat ik kan, namelijk zakken door de grond dat doe ik met hart en ziel ik geef me er volledig aan over ga er helemaal aan onderdoor dan gaat het hele zootje er over en ben ik zonder een centje pijn de grond ingeboord terwijl er nog ineenkrimpen, pikzwart zien of onderweg zijn naar de verre, verre hel lig ik daar zalig uitgeteld als goedmoedig zwart zaad waaruit helemaal niks goeds ontstaat wachten tot de grond weer ruimte voor mij daarboven vrij maakt

 
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from nguo lai

11. Petit Larousse et charcuterie

Puis on me dit que c’était « la rentrée », je devais aller à l’école, naturellement chez les Sœurs, celles de St Vincent de Paul. Comme ma sœur. Ce fut terrible. Mon français était détestable, mélangé de beaucoup de vietnamien, les autres enfants m’appelaient Chinetoque ou Viet. Pourtant je me fis une amie, elle se nommait Catherine, son papa était mort. En Indochine. Est-ce cela qui nous rapprochait ? Tant bien que mal j’appris à lire cette langue que je parlais si mal. La lecture m’a sauvé. Maintenu la tête hors de l’eau au milieu du chaos familial. Je lisais tout ce qui me passait sous la main. Je ne comprenais pas tout, je lisais, je lisais. « Encore à lire » me reprochait ma grand-mère. Je ne sais pas ce qu’elle imaginait être une activité meilleure. Mon livre préféré, très vite, fut le Petit Larousse Illustré et ses merveilleuses gravures sur bois. J’enrichis ainsi mon vocabulaire qui fit excuser ma grammaire et ma syntaxe défaillantes. Les sœurs faisaient leur possible pour civiliser le sauvageon qu’on leur avait confié. Elles réussirent, finalement pas trop mal. Je grandissais. À la maison je mangeais mal, la nourriture de ma grand-mère était infecte, celle de ma mère aussi. Le riz n’était pas bon, trop cuit, collant, la viande qu’on voulait me faire manger pour me fortifier, particulièrement le foie de veau, immangeable, surcuit. Je perdis mes joues du delta, je maigris et mon teint devint pâle. Les repas étaient un calvaire, les seuls occasions de me régaler sans histoire c’était les jours de charcuterie. Ça ce fut pour moi une découverte gustative majeure, avec le pain, dont je me gavais. Particulièrement le pain de seigle. Malheureusement c’était rare, il fallait attendre une fête ou une réception. À table, quand je ne mangeais pas à part, interdiction de parler, je devais demander permission pour tout. Et vider mon assiette sous peine de punition.

#nguolai

 
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from G A N Z E E R . T O D A Y

Season 3 of SILO ended with the media equivalent of being blue-balled.

Got around to watching PROJECT HAIL MARY with my significant other for the first time, and we might as well have put on a Disney cartoon.

Halfway through Iain M. Banks' USE OF WEAPONS, and it's fun and entertaining enough but I'm honestly a little surprised it's talked about as some great touchstone of sociocultural commentary and forward-thinking ideas. But perhaps I ought to wait until I finish it before jumping to any conclusions.

#radar #TV #film #reads

 
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from Things Left Unsaid

What if the current state of politics has inadvertently created multiple completely original mental disorders that will need to be analyzed in the coming decades? Assuming of course that we have decades coming.

Perhaps the #1 symptom of the disorder I've been afflicted by is that my brain keeps generating fiction from absorbing bits and bytes of the algorithm that the corporations decided I need to see, mixed with believing the slop that the left used A.I. to generate. Or from those piggies in charge of fake news.

So they say, right? I'm brainwashed. That's woke. Fake news. You believe in science, bro? It’s all a myth. A natural cycle. I succumb to the urge, and turn all these misfiring synapses into a blog post.

I should be criticizing the activities of my own (Canadian) government when I type about political things. Of course there would be no shortage of things to type. We have our flaws here that I could go on and on about. Doesn't every country? But my government people didn't stand in front of cameras threatening my life, and spewing infantile ridiculing garbage out of the gaping meat holes above their chins. Funny, in a cowardly kind of way, how they only ever end up talking to the news people that will ask the questions that they want to answer.

Changing the name from Department of National Defense back to Department of War was significant. Look at how tough we are. That is what the name change was really about, wasn't it? They did have the brawn to back up arrogance like that for many years, but not anymore. Without the brains, the brawn has diminished. They should now change the name again to something based upon their overall performance thus far in the second term. The Department of Stupidity, Lies and Discrimination.

What have they accomplished? Aside from increasing the price of everything, they have also depleted their ammo. Dropped bombs on a mountain. They have murdered innocent people, and have blown up civilian infrastructure (for fun). They have forced some very important upper management into choosing between integrity, or resigning. They fired the ones who wanted to do their jobs right instead of supporting the warped agenda of a senile dictator and his gang of bootlicker morons. A lot of the other personnel in the military must be completely alienated (like the ones held hostage in dire conditions on a boat). But whatever right? Things happen.

The epitome of inexperience, stupidity, ego, and incompetence, the drunkard, who is leading The Department of Whatever, has turned what was once a military machine into a boisterous paper tiger burning itself up from the inside. It has more than likely left the country vulnerable to a number of enemies out there, who are now probably just (laughing at the ludicrous antics) waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. I guess the scary part of that (aside from the inevitable brutal terror and tragedy of where it occurs) will be the story they fabricate about who was responsible. Very similar to when a former administration was like, hey, we need Osama bin Laden's head on a platter asap. We know he's in Afghanistan. Let's blow up Iraq. And that was back when they still had a somewhat functional government. Those days are long gone.

My money is on Canada. It will give them an excuse to just roll in with tanks and explosions. Like the objects of their envy always do. Then they can attempt to steal the things they need instead of making deals. Deal making involves giving and thinking. They are incapable of both thinking and giving, and are capable only of lying, taking, and stealing.

That's a little far fetched, isn't it? I don't know. Is it? We're both NATO though! Sure. NATO that they have been whining about since day one. NATO is an alliance. They don't do alliances. Nothing they do is rational, or normal, or legal, etc.. They start shit from a brain riddled with senility, and another likely pickled with vast amounts of expensive bourbon. Never with any plan or goal.

The rest of the incompetent idiots, from other failing departments, get in front of cameras to talk shit about Canada. The stunning hypocrisy is that they criticize the activities of our government, while they have wasted the last two years steadily bringing their own country right to the brink of societal collapse. I haven't looked at news yet today. Maybe it has already happened? I feel like their stupidity has been more detrimental than the aftermath of 9-11 and COVID-19 combined.

This second term is like they threw jet fuel on the glowing embers left from the dumpster fire that was started during its first term. Difference is that the first time around there was still some smart people in office keeping the thing somewhat restrained. This time is total control. Full on idiocracy. How the fuck can they still go on blaming the previous admin when they have had total control for nearly two years now?

What has their leader been up to? Attending to the important matters I guess. Focus on a ballroom, and plans for an eyesore arch. Renaming things. Bragging. Blow some more shit up. Posting gibberish and lies all night on social media that makes the next day markets and the price of gas fluctuate erratically.

There is talk about his presidential library being built in Florida. We can hope that it falls over on his golf course when the ground beneath it gets washed away from his total lack of attention to the climate crisis.

The executive orders he has signed over the last two years likely require their own storage room (?) Can't be too much of a problem though. There is likely plenty of spare rooms available from all the smart people who have been fired, or who have quit. Executive orders appear to skip processes, and go straight to the outcome. Such a weak and pathetic way to lead. That's not governance, politics, or leadership. It's dictatorship.

They squish him into the chair behind the desk. Those lined up behind him resist the urge to gag, or to pinch their noses shut. Roll cameras. He signs the things with a marker instead of a pen. Does no one else find that weird? His soft tiny little weak hand can likely no longer grip a pen. They should switch it up again and replace the marker with a crayon.

He gets to choose the colour before signing the thing. Mommy mommy look! Blue! Like the sky and the ocean used to be! I actually haven't seen him sign one of those things in a long time. Does he still hold them up for the cameras, proud, like a baby that stuck its hand into the ass crack of its shitty diaper when mom turned her back for two seconds. Weeeee! Let me display to world, haha!, smeared fresh baby shit on the wall.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword. I think the marker is less mighty than the pen. It is something to be used to label a box with, not for signing government documents.

He says, bluntly and stupidly, that all the allies have been ripping them off for years. It is not true. They have just decided they are just done with being generous, and with maintaining balance and order in the economy of globalized society. They are done with making deals of any kind that don't result in fattening the pockets of all the disgustingly ultra wealthy brats and psychopaths like himself. Hu

 
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from An Open Letter

I heard someone Describe the world as everyone having three things they can make a priority. They were originally describing it by saying how they would see someone that is incredibly muscular and think wow they look so good and instead of thinking, why don’t I look like that, it becomes that is one of their three priorities and if I made it my priority, I could also have that, but I choose not to. There are a lot of different ways I can apply this, but I’ve been thinking about it and I feel like my three priorities are powerlifting, socialization and building a social network, and I feel like I need to include Work. I’m not 100% sure if that is accurate because I do have pretty good work life balance and I know that there are very much a lot of friends and jobs where you can’t really step away from it the same way I do. But I’ve been wondering if I think that a relationship is one of these three things to me. Ignoring the fact that it’s kind of difficult to just consciously go ahead and put more effort into actively searching for a relationship, because I don’t really think that dating apps are necessarily too helpful in that regard, but just generally, I feel like one of the ways to cope with life is to not prioritize a relationship. Instead of going crazy waiting for it you can focus on the other things that make life enjoyable, and those will inherently lead to being a more desirable person and hopefully how you meet another person. But I also think about how in a relationship that is something that requires a lot of time and effort, and it’s a little bit weird to think about it in the lens that something or other will have to change or be given up. I think this shows itself a lot in something like a person getting into a relationship and then spending less time with their friends. I know I was very much guilty of this, and I guess it’s kind of natural because you are more or less spending most of your time with your partner out of other people I think. But I also think it could show up in ways like not attending to specific hobbies the same way, especially when those hobbies are kind of a means to meet a partner. I go to the gym and like powerlifting not really for a partner, that would be cool, but I’m doing these things because I enjoy them and in a relationship there’s no question I would continue to do these things. I can see however me maybe try other hobbies or things like that with the intention of finding a partner. And it feels like a weirdly disingenuous thing in my mind.

 
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from Douglas Vandergraph | Quiet Christian Reflection

Chapter 1: The Day That Made Me Wonder

Yesterday was my birthday, and somewhere between the messages, the quiet moments, and the strange awareness that another year had passed, I found myself thinking about Jesus in a way I never had before. I started wondering how He would have looked at a birthday, and that question led me back to what Jesus can teach us about celebrating another year of life in a way that feels deeper than simply counting candles.

I had been thinking about the day the way most of us do. Birthdays make us remember where we were a year ago, who was there then, what has changed, and how quickly time seems to move. That reflection also connected with a related message about seeing ordinary life through faith, because birthdays have a way of turning something familiar into a moment when we suddenly notice what we normally rush past.

The Bible gives us the story of Jesus being born, but it never gives us a scene of Jesus celebrating His own birthday later in life. We do not get a picture of Him turning ten, twenty, or thirty. Scripture simply does not tell us whether His family marked the day every year, whether there was a special meal, or whether Jesus treated His birthday as different from any other day.

That silence matters because it keeps us honest. We cannot build a teaching around details the Bible never gives us. We cannot say Jesus celebrated birthdays a certain way just because we want the story to feel complete. But the absence of a birthday scene does not mean the question is useless. In some ways, it makes the question more personal, because instead of copying a tradition, we have to look at what Jesus actually valued.

That is where my mind stayed yesterday.

I thought about how birthdays felt when I was younger. Back then, the day seemed simple. You wanted the cake, the presents, and the attention. Being one year older felt like an achievement. You waited for the day to come because growing up sounded exciting.

Then something changes.

As you get older, a birthday can become quieter on the inside even when the room is full. You can be grateful and still find yourself thinking about time. You can smile when people tell you happy birthday and still remember somebody who used to call every year but cannot call anymore. You can enjoy the day and still wonder how another twelve months disappeared so quickly.

I do not think that makes birthdays sad. I think it makes them honest.

Jesus never treated time as meaningless. He understood that life had seasons, that moments mattered, and that the people in front of Him mattered. He also knew how to receive human joy without turning it into something shallow. He went to meals. He joined celebrations. He sat at tables with people. His presence at the wedding in Cana is enough to show that joy itself was not the problem.

So when I think about Jesus and birthdays, I do not imagine Him telling us to ignore the day or act as if celebrating life is somehow unspiritual. I think the better lesson is that a birthday can become more than a party without becoming heavy.

It can become a moment of attention.

Not attention to ourselves in the sense of needing everybody to make the day perfect, but attention to the simple fact that we are here.

That landed differently for me yesterday.

I was not just another year older. I had been given another year to live.

There is a real difference between those two ways of seeing the same birthday. One sounds like something was taken from me. The other sounds like something was given.

And maybe that is where faith begins to change the day.

A birthday can remind us that life is not owed to us. We do not control how many birthdays we will get. We cannot store them up or guarantee the next one. But we can receive the one in front of us.

That does not mean forcing ourselves to feel happy if the day is complicated. Some birthdays come during hard seasons. A person can be dealing with family strain, health concerns, financial pressure, loneliness, or grief and still wake up to people saying, “Happy birthday.” Sometimes the words land strangely because the heart is carrying something the people around us cannot see.

Jesus understood that people could carry more than one thing at the same time. He never demanded fake emotion from people. He met them where they were.

Maybe that gives us permission to do the same on our birthdays.

We can be grateful without pretending everything is perfect. We can celebrate without ignoring what hurts. We can thank God for another year even if part of that year was hard.

Yesterday, that became the beginning of my answer.

I may never know whether Jesus had a birthday meal, received a gift, or heard someone mark the day He was born. Scripture does not tell me that.

But His life does teach me how to receive a birthday.

Not as proof that I am running out of time, but as a reminder that I was given time at all.

Chapter 2: When a Birthday Feels Like a Measure

The morning after a birthday can feel strangely ordinary. The cards are still on the counter. A few messages may still be waiting on the phone. The cake might still be in the refrigerator. But the day itself is over, and life goes right back to normal.

That is when another kind of birthday thought can show up.

Was I supposed to be farther along by now?

Birthdays have a way of turning age into a measuring stick. We start comparing the life we actually have with the life we thought we would have by this point. Maybe we imagined a different career, a different marriage, more money, better health, a closer family, or some clearer sense that we had finally figured things out.

That can make a birthday surprisingly heavy.

You can be sitting at the kitchen table with coffee the next morning and realize the number bothers you more than you expected. Not because getting older is bad, but because age can make unfinished things feel louder.

I think this is another place where Jesus changes the way we see the day.

Jesus never seemed impressed by the way people ranked one another. He did not treat a person as more valuable because they had reached some public milestone. He looked at people directly. He saw the widow with almost nothing to give. He saw Zacchaeus hiding in a tree. He saw Peter after failure. He saw people others had already labeled, dismissed, or measured.

That matters on a birthday because birthdays can tempt us to measure ourselves with the wrong ruler.

Maybe the question is not, “Should I have accomplished more by this age?”

Maybe the better question is, “Can I receive this birthday without turning it into a judgment against myself?”

That is harder than it sounds.

We are used to evaluating everything. We compare houses, jobs, bodies, families, bank accounts, and even spiritual progress. A birthday can quietly collect all of those comparisons into one day and make us feel as if our age is a deadline we have somehow missed.

But a birthday is not a verdict.

It is a date.

It marks the day you entered the world. It does not tell you whether your life has been successful enough, impressive enough, or meaningful enough.

Jesus consistently showed people that their value was not earned by appearing complete.

That should change something about the way we celebrate getting older.

Maybe I do not need to use my birthday to prove anything. Maybe I do not need to look at someone else who is the same age and ask why their life looks different. Maybe I can simply receive the day as mine.

There is something peaceful about that.

The older we get, the more personal birthdays become anyway. As children, we wanted the day to be big. As adults, sometimes the most meaningful part is smaller. A phone call from someone you love. A meal with family. A quiet prayer before bed. A few minutes alone when you realize how much of your life has already happened.

Those quiet moments may be closer to what matters most.

I do not know how Jesus marked the anniversary of His birth, but I do know He repeatedly pulled people away from appearances and back toward what was real.

That makes me think a faithful birthday does not need to be impressive.

It needs to be honest.

Maybe you had a wonderful year. Thank God for it.

Maybe you had a brutal year and barely made it through. You can still thank Him for bringing you to this birthday.

Maybe you are not where you hoped you would be. That does not make the day less meaningful.

The date does not ask you to explain yourself.

It simply arrives and says another year has passed.

What you do with that realization is where faith enters.

I can look at the number and feel behind, or I can look at the day and feel grateful.

I can treat my age as evidence that I missed some imaginary deadline, or I can treat it as evidence that I have been given more life than I once had.

That does not erase regret. It puts regret in its proper place.

A birthday can be honest about what is unfinished without becoming ashamed of what is unfinished.

That may be one of the quietest lessons Jesus gives us here.

He never asked people to become worthy before coming to Him. He met them in the middle of real life.

So maybe I can meet myself there too.

On my birthday, I do not have to become the person I thought I would be years ago.

I can simply stand where I am, thank God for getting me here, and receive the year that has just been completed.

Then the birthday stops being a scorecard.

It becomes a gift.

Chapter 3: The Birthday Prayer I Want to Keep

Later in the evening, after most of the birthday messages had slowed down and the day was almost over, I found myself thinking about one simple question: if I could carry only one thought from this birthday into the next year, what would I want it to be?

Not a goal. Not a promise to reinvent myself. Not a list of things I should finally accomplish before the next birthday comes.

Just one thought.

I think it would be gratitude.

That may sound simple, but birthdays can make gratitude more real because they put a date on something we usually take for granted. We wake up most mornings without thinking very much about the fact that we woke up at all. We move through work, errands, conversations, responsibilities, and problems as though another day is automatic.

Then a birthday arrives and reminds us that days have been adding up.

A year ago, you were standing somewhere else in your life. Since then, hundreds of ordinary mornings have come and gone. There were meals you barely remember, drives you made without thinking, conversations that seemed small at the time, and nights when you simply went to bed hoping tomorrow would be better.

Together, all of those ordinary days became another year.

That makes a birthday feel different to me.

I still do not know how Jesus celebrated His birthdays, and I do not think Scripture gives us enough information to pretend that we do. But Jesus did teach people to recognize daily provision. He taught them to pray for daily bread. He taught them to trust the Father with tomorrow instead of becoming consumed by it.

Maybe that gives us a beautiful way to understand a birthday.

A birthday is what happens when enough daily bread, daily mercy, daily strength, and ordinary days have carried us through another year.

Sometimes we noticed God in those days.

Sometimes we probably did not.

There may have been mornings when we prayed with confidence and others when we barely knew what to say. There may have been moments when faith felt strong and others when we simply kept moving.

Yet another birthday came.

That is what I want to remember.

Not every year has to be declared the best year of my life in order to be worth thanking God for. Some years are difficult. Some are confusing. Some contain losses we would never have chosen.

But arriving at another birthday still gives us a moment to stop and recognize that we have been carried through another stretch of life.

I think that is why I no longer want to treat birthdays only as celebrations of age.

Age is just the number.

The deeper thing is the life contained inside it.

When someone says, “Happy birthday,” maybe there is more in those words than we realize. They are acknowledging that the day you entered this world mattered enough to remember. They are telling you that your being here is worth noticing.

And perhaps that is enough reason to receive the day with joy.

You do not need the perfect party.

You do not need everyone to remember.

You do not need to feel younger than you are or pretend the passing years do not affect you.

You can simply stand inside the birthday you have been given and say, “Thank You.”

That is where my question about Jesus finally brought me.

I started by wondering how He celebrated His birthdays.

I ended up realizing that maybe the more important lesson is learning how to receive mine.

With honesty about the years that have passed, gratitude for the one that just ended, and humility about how many more may come.

Yesterday was my birthday.

Today, the day is already behind me.

But I want to keep one prayer from it.

“Father, thank You for letting me see another birthday.”

That prayer does not need anything added to it.

Another birthday came.

I was here to see it.

And that is worth celebrating.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Explore the complete Douglas Vandergraph Master Index: https://douglasvandergraph.com/douglas-vandergraph-master-index/

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s faith-based videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

 
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