As an update, here’s what I wrote for my birthday in January:

Tomorrow I turn 44, which feels both lovely and wild, somehow old and just right. I usually indulge myself with a post reflecting on the previous year and its growth, but in light of sad and chaotic events in my city (Minneapolis), I want to fight despair with gratitude. Leaning into empathy, compassion, and hope is, I think, how to best arm myself. I am useless to the cause if I lose my identity.

I am grateful for the way the Twin Cities has stood up for our neighbors. It makes me proud to be part of such a community. I’m grateful for friends and family who are not scared of vulnerability or conversations (or, if scared, who do it anyway). I’m grateful for foster kittens and the kiddos in my life who make me laugh, the teens who face the future with energy, grace, and nuance.

I’m grateful for writing and creativity, the privilege of making something from nothing, the immense pleasure of crafting sentences from something to something better. My writing community inspires me constantly. They are good company.

I’m grateful for Northwestern, for my therapist, for this body that is my constant companion. I’m thankful for a savior who imbues everything with meaning, a God who is at the supernatural work of rescue, even when I’m not paying attention.

Here’s to 44, to 2026, to hope and brotherhood, to calling, to transformation with ever-increasing glory.