Pic of the Day

A Busy Start to the Week

Today is shaping up to be one of those days where everything seems to land at once. I’ll spend the first half of the morning setting up for a class, and the second half actually teaching it. Then, once the students are gone, I’ll be putting away all of the materials and resetting the space.

And that’s just the morning.

This afternoon I’ll be heading up to Burlington for an ultrasound of my liver. I had bloodwork done on Friday, and tomorrow I meet with my liver specialist—so it’s going to be a medically themed start to the week whether I like it or not. On top of that, someone is coming by to replace my windshield because the crack that’s been creeping across the bottom finally decided to make itself a priority.

So yes… a great deal of juggling today, and a sincere hope that everything runs on schedule.

Before I get swept up in the chaos, I want to thank everyone for the birthday wishes yesterday. It meant a lot. I had a quiet day at home with Isabella—never a bad way to spend a birthday—and I’m grateful for all the kind messages.

I hope everyone has a wonderful week ahead. May yours be a little calmer than mine is starting out to be!

Pics of the Day

Another Year of Becoming

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

— Psalm 139:16

Birthdays can stir up a whole symphony of emotions. Some years we celebrate with joy; other years, we feel the weight of who’s missing, what’s changed, or where life didn’t unfold the way we hoped. But whether the candle count excites us or unnerves us, a birthday is always—always—an invitation to grace.

One of my favorite verses for days like this comes from Psalm 139:16:

“All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

That verse isn’t about fate or predestination so much as it is about belonging—the reminder that our lives are not accidents, even when they feel messy, lonely, or unfinished. For LGBTQ+ Christians, a birthday can carry an extra layer of meaning: another year of surviving a world that often misunderstands us; another year of claiming our place in the world; another year of living truthfully, even when truth has cost us something.

Birthdays remind us that God’s faithfulness is not measured in milestones. It’s measured in presence.

Another year of God sitting with us in our sadness.

Another year of God celebrating with us in small victories.

Another year of God whispering, You are fearfully and wonderfully made—even when we don’t feel fearfully wonderful at all.

In John 10:10, Jesus says, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

Abundance does not mean perfection. It doesn’t mean a life without mistakes or heartbreak. It means the fullness of being truly alive: loving, learning, grieving, healing, laughing, resting, trying again.

Every birthday is a living testament that God isn’t finished with us.

For many of us, the older we get, the more complicated birthdays become. Maybe we think about people who should still be here. Maybe we reflect on choices we made or didn’t make. Maybe we hear that little voice saying we’re behind somehow, as if life is a race with a single finish line.

But God’s voice is different. God’s voice says:

You’re right on time.

You’re still growing.

You’re still becoming.

Your story is not over.

And for queer folks—for anyone who has ever had to fight for the right to live fully—each birthday is nothing short of sacred.

It’s a celebration of resilience.

A celebration of authenticity.

A celebration of the courage it took to get here.

And I’ll be honest: I wrote this devotional today because it’s my birthday. Birthdays always make me reflective—sometimes wistful, sometimes grateful, always a little contemplative. So if you’re reading this and today is your birthday too, or if yours is coming up soon, know you’re not alone in whatever mix of emotions you’re carrying.

Whether this year comes with cake and candles or simply a quiet moment with your thoughts—or a purring companion curled up next to you—may it remind you of this truth:

You are here. You are loved. And God delights in the person you are becoming, year by year, breath by breath.

Happy birthday to everyone who needs to hear this today. And a quiet “happy birthday” to myself, too—grateful for another year of life, love, and God’s gentle presence.

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: Lazy Day

Some days call for ambition; others call for claiming my spot on the couch and staying there.

Pic of the Day

Winter Lights and Birthday Traditions

A good friend of mine—also from Alabama, and though younger than me grew up not far from where I did—and I are heading out tonight for Winter Lights at Shelburne Museum. It’s one of those wonderfully over-the-top holiday displays that hits you with the full force of color, sparkle, and pure seasonal joy. The whole campus is transformed with imaginative light installations: buildings glowing in bold colors, gardens wrapped in shimmering displays, and even musical moments tucked throughout.

We’re starting the evening with a nice birthday dinner. Usually, we go to Waterworks in Winooski because they’re the only place that carries a wine we both love, but since alcohol is off the table for me now, we decided on a different kind of celebration. After dinner, we’ll head over to Winter Lights for the full holiday experience. I just need to decide whether I’m in the mood for steak or Italian tonight.

Holiday lights have always been a soft spot for me. I’ve been to a few of these special displays before—there was a similar event at the Montgomery Zoo I used to go to with a former girlfriend, and I’ve been to the lights at Callaway Gardens in Georgia. When I was a kid, Christmas Eve meant going to my mother’s parents’ house, and Pop would take us driving to look at all the decorated homes. It was one of my favorite traditions.

A friend of mine once lived in Thibodaux, Louisiana, and that town always went all out—bright, tacky, gaudy, and absolutely over the top. But it was fun. And on my 40th birthday, a friend took me up to Montreal, where we stayed at a hotel on the edge of the Gay Village overlooking a little park near the Berri-UQAM Metro station. They had a small winter festival happening, and it made for such a beautiful scene.

So tonight feels like a continuation of all those good memories: a nice dinner with a friend, a wander through glowing holiday lights, and maybe a cup of Lake Champlain Chocolates hot cocoa to warm things up. A pretty perfect way to celebrate another year.

Pics of the Day

A Quiet Table, a Full Heart

This Thanksgiving will be a small one for me, but it will still be a good one. I’ll be making my own little feast: turkey, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Truth be told, I’m mostly looking forward to the dressing. It has always been one of my favorite foods of the season—comfort, tradition, and memory all in one dish.

It will just be me and my lovely Isabella at the table this year, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. She has truly been a lifesaver for me in more ways than I can count. She has an uncanny way of knowing when I don’t feel well, when I’m anxious, or when I just need quiet company. I am deeply thankful for her sweet, steady presence in my life.

I’m also incredibly thankful for my friendships—especially Susan—and for the people who show up for me again and again with kindness, laughter, and support. And yes, I’m even thankful for my family, even though they do manage to drive me crazy most of the time. Love is complicated, but it is still love.

Most of all today, I want to thank you—my wonderful readers. So many of you are so encouraging in your comments, and over the years I have made real, meaningful friendships through this little corner of the internet. Some of you I still hear from often. Some I haven’t heard from in a long time. And some I know have passed on. Each of you, in your own way, has made an impact on my life, and for that I am truly grateful.

I know some of you rarely comment publicly, but every once in a while I’ll receive a quiet email instead—and I treasure those messages just as much. In fifteen years of writing this blog, I’m grateful to say that negativity has been rare. The overwhelming majority of what I receive from you is warmth, encouragement, and generosity of spirit. That is no small gift.

To my readers in the United States, I wish you a peaceful, joyful Thanksgiving. And to those of you around the world who don’t celebrate this holiday—please know how thankful I am for you being part of my life all the same.

Today, my table may be small, but my gratitude is anything but.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends. 🦃❤️