It’s DJ’s birthday today, and everybody knows I wish him a happy one.
There’s not really even a point in writing about it. What would I say besides, “Happy birthday to this man who is a great husband, wonderful dad, loving son and brother, blah blah blah.”
It’s just a given that I wish him a happy birthday. Everybody knows how much I love him. Why even bring it up?
I mean, the first time he picked me up at the airport, he brought me chocolate-covered cherries. How charming is that?
He, the freshly-minted lawyer, first told me he loved me in a letter written on yellow legal paper. You don’t get much more adorable than that.
In the first bewildering years of parenthood, I could often look over our fussy babies’ heads and meet his blue eyes. He didn’t know what to do any more than I did, but heck if he wasn’t right in there with me.
I’m more sociable than he is; I need friends and go out of my way to keep my friendships alive. But he’s the one who says, “Hey, let’s have a party next month. Let’s invite this person over. Do you think our friends would want to come over to play games?”
He knows everything. I married Google. I’m serious… okay, fine. He doesn’t know everything. He can’t remember names for anything. I’m good at walking into the conversation and saying the person’s name to clue him in. But he knows everything else. Okay, also no pop songs from the 1980s.
He’s read thousands of books to the four kids over the years — well, more accurately, the same twenty-five books thousands of times. He pushes them harder than I do, but he’s quicker to repent of a bad mood or unreasonable orders. And sometimes I look around a tall kid’s shoulder and meet his blue eyes. He’s still right in there with me.
He’s got a peaceful, quiet, dig-heels-in-and-never-budge faith. It lets him reconsider and re-evaluate his views without throwing him into a spiritual crisis every time. He takes genuine joy in Christ and Scripture. I watch him, and sometimes I can relax my own struggle for a while.
He makes me laugh. He’s the only person in the whole world whose company fills up my introverted energy instead of draining it. He’s still romantic. My head and heart are full of very warm, very unbloggable, memories.
So yes, I am happy to wish him another birthday, which marks another year I’ve spent with him. But really, there’s not much more to say than that, right?
Well, except… I love you, DJ. Happy birthday!