This year has been another filled with firsts for me and our family.
Not long ago, I had the privilege of celebrating my 60th birthday surrounded by many of the people I love. Shortly afterward, our family gathered again to celebrate the first birthday of my newest nephew. As I reflected on the "trips around the sun" that each of us is blessed to take—as long as God continues to grant us life—it made me smile and wonder how sixty trips compare to just one.
At my age, I have a lifetime of precious memories to look back on. Some of my favorite childhood memories are of riding bikes outdoors, hiking along irrigation canals, and gathering with my large extended family. Thanks to having so many cousins nearby, birthdays, holidays, and family celebrations seemed to happen all the time. Looking back, I realize those ordinary moments became extraordinary memories.
Between those two birthday celebrations, however, our family also experienced sorrow. We said goodbye to one of my cousins after a courageous battle with cancer. The juxtaposition of celebrating life one day while praying that someone survives a catastrophic illness the next is a powerful reminder of how quickly our lives can change. Joy and grief often walk side by side.
I am deeply grateful for the years I have been given. Many dear friends and family members never received the gift of growing old. While preparing for my own birthday celebration, I gathered photographs of loved ones who are no longer with us. Looking through those pictures didn't make me sad as much as it made me grateful. What an incredible blessing it was to have shared a portion of life's journey with each of them. They filled my life with love, laughter, wisdom, and unforgettable memories.
Then I thought about my youngest nephew. The reality is that I will most likely not be here to see him celebrate his 60th birthday. Yet I hope he is blessed with a long, healthy, and joyful life, surrounded by family who continue to love and encourage him. I hope he has the opportunity to make countless wonderful memories during his own trips around the sun.
During the celebration of my birthday, my mother shared a simple but profound truth. She reminded everyone that one day we are here, and the next day we may not be. I couldn't agree more and those words have stayed with me.
This morning, while swimming laps at the pool, I witnessed another reminder of what truly matters. As I was finishing my workout, a young father arrived with his two little boys. They carried pool toys, laughed without restraint, and eagerly took turns jumping into their dad's waiting arms. Each time they dove into the water, he cheered enthusiastically, hugged them tightly, and kissed their wet cheeks with the kind of affection only a loving parent can give.
It was a beautiful moment.
As I walked home afterward, I couldn't help but think about the memories those two boys were creating. Years from now, I hope they remember not just the pool or the diving, but the joy of spending time with their father—the laughter they shared, the encouragement he gave them, and the feeling of being loved without condition. Sometimes our most treasured memories come from life's simplest moments.
I silently wished that family God's blessings as I continued home. Once again, my thoughts returned to the many trips around the sun that await those two boys and their dad.
For those who lost a parent, spouse, sibling, or another beloved family member far too soon, my heart aches for you. I am truly sorry that precious time—and the memories that might have been—were taken from you too early.
Several months ago, at a high school reunion celebrating our 60th birthdays, I reconnected with a classmate I hadn't spoken with in more than forty years. As we caught up, she shared that she had been widowed several years earlier. I offered my heartfelt condolences, and after thanking me, she said something I have never forgotten.
She told me that she and her husband had shared more than twenty wonderful years together, and that those years gave them their only son. Then she smiled gently and said, "Some people never get twenty years of joy and happiness. I'm thankful for every one of ours."
Her perspective was both heartbreaking and inspiring. Instead of dwelling on what she had lost, she chose to be grateful for what she had been given.
Perhaps that's the lesson these trips around the sun are meant to teach us.
Every birthday is more than another candle on a cake. It is another year of relationships, memories, lessons, laughter, tears, forgiveness, hope, and love. It is another opportunity to leave the world just a little better than we found it.
So the next time you celebrate your own birthday—or someone else's—pause for a moment. Remember what a remarkable blessing it is to be given another trip around the sun. Never take those journeys for granted, because one day each of our trips will come to an end.
When that day arrives, my hope is that we won't measure our lives simply by the number of years we were given, but by the love we shared, the kindness we extended, the faith we lived, and the memories we created along the way.
After all, it isn't the number of trips around the sun that matters most.
It's what we do with each one.