I figured when you get to a certain age, you need to celebrate being alive. Somehow, I don’t think that one day is enough to appreciate the miracle of life, so I decided to take the whole month of February. I know, it’s a short month, even on leap years. But life is hard enough without allowing yourself some room for frivolity and fun.

My actual birthday is on February 28, as I was ever so close to being a leap year baby. If I’d been born only 11 hours later, I’d be celebrating on February 29 and only be 1/4 of my current age. I wish.

But age is nothing to be ashamed of, especially when you know far too many people who didn’t get to grow old. I see my life more and more as a gift, even when I’m starting to get those senior discounts without having to show any actual ID. That hurts a bit, I confess.

But God has been good to me for 53 years. I have way more blessings than I can count (and way more than I deserve if I’m being honest). I know that I’m a sinner saved by grace, and everything else that I get from God is the proverbial icing on the cake.

By the way, I wear size 8 1/2 Lucchese boots and I like my cabins size medium. JK. I figured out a long time ago that people matter more than stuff and memories last way longer than any possessions. Besides, I won’t be taking any of my stuff with me when I shuffle off this mortal coil. I mean have you ever seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul? Think about it.

Anyway, I’d like to make it to 100, but I’m thankful for whatever I get. If Jesus comes back before then, I’m definitely not going to complain. That will be the best day ever.