Change of Seasons

It was Monday morning on June 8, the beginning of a new week. The quiet, cold winter had faded away and was now a distant memory, and a change of seasons was on the horizon for us, bringing new memories of hope and happiness. The chilly mornings that introduced little reminders of a winter not so long ago were no more. Slowly, day by day, the sun brought its warmth to the world, eventually to be accompanied by the soothing sights and sounds of spring and summer. Flowers blossomed with vibrant bursts of colors and beautiful aromas. All throughout the day, our ears were gently kissed with a whisper of song from birds floating through the crisp, clear blue sky above. As they flitted from tree to tree, their chorus saturated the air.

If we awoke early enough, just as the sun illuminated the dark morning sky to signal the beginning of a new day, we experienced a peacefulness that was slowly penetrated by a glimmer of sunlight and a slight song. The first bird broke through the silence with its song, announcing a new day. Before we realized it, the air was saturated with a chorus from hundreds of birds celebrating the new day, a new beginning.

This concert was bewildering. If you are fortunate enough to experience this phenomenon, it touches your soul and awakens your heart. Each and every day, as if on cue, the birds awoke to celebrate the new day that awaited them. If you listened closely, you could pick out a variety of birds as their songs came together to form a beautiful melody: cardinals, robin red breasts, blue jays, bluebirds, crows, sparrows, mourning doves, warblers, brown thrashers, mockingbirds, and many more.

June 8 was Pam's morning concert, a day to honor and celebrate her new beginning. For everyone else, it was just another day of the year and probably didn't mean much. They probably got up and went to work, went to school, and did whatever most people do on a Monday in June.

On this particular morning, I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop, already immersed in my day of work with my laptop in front of me. I was gazing intensely into the screen, reading through e-mail after e-mail and working on a multitude of things, when suddenly I heard a ding! My ears perked up, but I paid no attention to it. I heard it once again ... ding! I was in the zone, but now my intense focus on work was interrupted.

I looked at my phone to see the picture of my daughters on the home screen slowly fade away as a text message from my wife, Pam, popped up on the screen.

Hey baby, today is my 2nd birthday!

Oh yeah, #11 right? I responded.

yes

Happy Birthday ILY!

For Pam and me, Monday, June 8 is a considerably more meaningful day than all of the other Mondays throughout the entire year. June 8 is a day we celebrate Pam! Why? Because over ten years ago she overcame an almost insurmountable challenge when she was diagnosed with stage-four cancer. This was our day to celebrate new beginnings, to celebrate Pam's new beginning!

Glancing back at my phone, I paused to read her text message once again. I understood the context in which her message came to me. It was not sent as a reminder to get her a cake, not a reminder to buy her gifts, and not a reminder to bring her flowers. This message said so much more than all of the gifts, flowers, and goodies we typically give someone when celebrating a birthday. This text message was a reminder of Pam's pride — her very own pride and belief in herself that she holds deep in her heart. But two birthdays? Who has two birthdays, and what does it mean?

How Old Are You?

It was late afternoon, and the end of the school day finally arrived for our daughters, Grace, Jordan, and Zoey. That afternoon, I awaited my eight-year-old daughter's return from school. I could hear the squeal of brakes announcing the arrival of Grace's school bus as it appeared from around the bend in the road. The bus eased to a complete stop when the red lights adorning the front, back, and sides of the bus started flashing like a bright Christmas display. A small, red, octagonal stop sign slowly flipped open from the driver's side of the bus, alerting all cars to stop. A little yellow arm, the school bus crossing arm, slowly extended forward from the front bumper, preventing anyone from stepping in front of the bus.

At every stop the bus made, the world and activities in the immediate vicinity were put on hold. Commuters coming home from work, parents taking their children home from school, or those who were out for an afternoon stroll stopped everything they were doing. Their destination had to wait a few moments longer, because Grace was home! For every kid on the bus, it was as though they were a celebrity, or the President of the United States, on tour.

The doors slid open, and I peered inside the school bus to see a pair of sneakers come into view at the top step. Emerging from the bus, I could see Grace's little feet venturing down the steps until she reached the bottom step. Jumping as high as she could off the step, she floated through the air until her feet came into contact with the ground, her knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. She lifted her head toward the sky to reveal a smiling face beaming with an excitement that could not be contained.

The afternoon sun greeted her, as if to say, "Welcome home, Grace. We have fun and exciting things in store for you today!" With a quick turn of her head, she looked back at her bus driver and shouted, "Bye!" The dazzling display of flashing red lights came to an end, and the big yellow school bus rumbled on.

"Hi, Daddy!" Grace yelled out to me as she ran toward me to give me a hug.

"Hey, sweetie!" I happily replied, wrapping my arms around her. I wanted to ask her about her day, but I could tell she had other plans as she went on her way down the driveway toward our home.

The sun was shining brightly upon her face, and I could hear her whistling a tune while she ventured down the driveway. Although I couldn't quite make out the tune, a smile lit up my face from the happiness emanating from her song. Suddenly, she made a break for it!

"Race ya', Dad!" Yelling in my direction, she took off running down the driveway in a full sprint. I watched her disappear out of my sight as she ran toward the house.

On my stroll home, I found myself drifting back to when I was a kid, recollecting how wonderful summers were growing up in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. Every year, when I knew that summer was quickly approaching, the elation that welled up inside me always led to a frenzy of excitement that could not be contained. With each day, the sun's warmth tapped me on the shoulder offering me little reminders that summer was near. With every tap and every sunrise, the days got warmer, brighter, and longer. Hearts of all ages were filled with happiness from the eager anticipation of fun days to come.

I reminisced about a time long ago when I was about nine years old, reliving the feelings of exhilaration as summertime slowly snuck up. This excitement made me want to shout at the top of my lungs. It was something that I simply felt needed to be shared with the world, with all of my friends, my brothers, and my parents.

I clung to a strong urge to let everyone know about the impending happiness that was about to overtake the neighborhood, but I refrained from shouting at the top of my lungs for...