Birthdays are

  something I let slide

  on by, pretending

  that I can pretend that

  they don't matter

  as if all the things

  I hoped to be by now

  never really meant

  any.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  But

  I can't this time

  because pretending

  I'm fine

  is closing my eyes to

  a world of

  God's goodness

  in the midst of

  every.

  So.

  It hasn't been an

  easy day

  (remember those?

  me either)

  but so much that I thought

  would be echoing

  empty - was filled

  full.

  (Hands

  want to close,

  to cling,

  but hands hold better

  open.)

  Because I have

  a God,

  and He

  has me.

  The only God who

  loves back.

  The only God

  who loved

  first.

  And He gives.

  He is the God

  of real laughter

  and real tears.

  He holds and

  He heals and

  He tears

  down the rubbish to

  build the beautiful

  strong.

  I write about today

  because I don't want

  to forget:

  today God was good.

  And when today

  is yesterday

  I want to remember that

  God will be good

  tomorrow.

  Balloons or no balloons.