Balloons, Blessings, and Cream Puffs

Today I turned 47, and honestly, this might have been my best birthday yet. It was filled with laughter, kindness, and so many little moments that reminded me how deeply loved I am.

My husband is away at camp this week, but he still managed to make me feel like he was right here. He had our pastor’s daughter put together a beautiful birthday basket, complete with flowers and homemade cream puffs. And not just any cream puffs. These were the kind that make you stop mid-bite and close your eyes for a second because they’re that good. Light, sweet, and made with love.

One of the pastor’s other daughters showed up with a block of cheese as her gift. I could not have been happier. Honestly, if there is ever a love language for cheese, it might be mine.

I was sitting in church when my best friend and her husband came in carrying two giant number balloons. The numbers were “7” and “8.” They tied them to my chair, and for a good few minutes, I looked like I was celebrating my seventy-eighth birthday. We laughed until our sides hurt. It was perfect.

The whole night was full of that kind of joy—the kind that bubbles up from the heart. Hugs, teasing, good-natured banter, and the warmth of people who feel like family. It did not matter that my husband could not be there in person. He was there in every detail, every thoughtful surprise, and every smile that came my way.

This birthday was not about big plans or fancy things. It was about being surrounded by love, both near and far. It was about seeing how God has woven people into my life who lift me up, who make me laugh, and who fill the room with light.

As I sit here tonight, I can honestly say I feel full. Full of joy, gratitude, cream puffs, and maybe a little cheese too.

Forty-seven feels like grace. It feels like laughter echoing in a church full of balloons and friends. And it feels like God whispering, “See? You’re right where you need to be.”