The Gift of a Birthday

Why Every Year Deserves Celebration

There’s something magical about birthdays—not the kind of magic conjured up by streamers, confetti, or the glow of trick candles, but the quieter magic of time passing and the reminder that we are still here. Still breathing. Still becoming. Birthdays are often treated as just another day, especially as we get older. Some even go so far as to say, “Don’t make a fuss over me,” or, “It’s just another year.” But I believe that birthdays deserve to be honored—not just as a ritual, but as a celebration of life itself.

A birthday marks the anniversary of our entry into this world. That fact alone is worth pausing for.

Whether we are surrounded by friends or spending the day alone in quiet reflection, whether we're blowing out candles or simply sipping coffee in the morning sun, there is profound value in acknowledging the day our life began. We don’t need a banquet or balloons to honor our existence. Sometimes, all it takes is intentionality—a moment to whisper “thank you” to the life we’ve been given.

Today, June 9th, is particularly special for me, because it’s my son’s birthday. I still remember the very first one—the awe, the overwhelming love, the fatigue, and the way time seemed to stretch and collapse all at once. That tiny baby is now a man, and watching him grow through the years has been one of the greatest honors of my life. His birthday reminds me of all the versions of him I’ve had the privilege to love, and it also reminds me how each of us changes and transforms year after year. We are never the same person on our birthday as we were the year before—and that’s something to truly celebrate.

Birthdays are not about parties or presents, although those can be fun. They are about recognition.

They are an opportunity to reflect on where we’ve been, how far we’ve come, and what we want to create in the next chapter. They’re about pausing long enough to consider who we are—what we’ve survived, what we’ve learned, and what we still aspire to do. And in a world that constantly pushes us to do more, be more, earn more, and rush through everything, that kind of pause is sacred.

We live in a culture that often elevates milestones—30th, 40th, 50th—as if the years in between are less important. But every single year matters. Every year we age is a testament to resilience. We’ve overcome things that once felt unbearable. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve started over. Even if our circumstances haven’t drastically changed, we have. And we should never underestimate the significance of growth that can’t be seen with the naked eye.

Celebrating your birthday doesn’t have to mean throwing a big bash. Sometimes the most meaningful birthday is the one you spend journaling in solitude, or walking in nature, or enjoying a heartfelt meal with just one or two people who matter most. Maybe it’s taking the day off work, buying yourself flowers, or reading a favorite book cover to cover. The celebration isn’t about extravagance—it’s about acknowledgement. You’re here. You’ve made it through another turn around the sun.

For those of us who have known deep loss, birthdays can also bring a wave of emotion. The years can pile up without the people we thought would always be around. We may miss parents, partners, or friends who aren’t here to wish us well. That grief, too, becomes a part of the day—a reminder of love, of life, and of how precious every single moment is. Sometimes, honoring a birthday is also a way of honoring those we’ve loved and lost.

As I reflect on my son’s birthday today, I think not only about the joy he brought into my life, but also about the way his presence changed me. Becoming a parent transforms you in ways you can’t explain until you’ve lived it. Each year on his birthday, I’m reminded not just of his life, but of the version of me that came into existence the day he was born. That’s the beauty of birthdays—they aren’t just about aging. They’re about evolving.

Over the years, I’ve met people who avoid celebrating their birthdays altogether. Some are shy. Others don’t want to acknowledge getting older. A few carry old wounds—perhaps they never had anyone make them feel special on their big day. If this sounds familiar, I want to gently offer a new perspective: you don’t need others to validate your worth in order to celebrate it. You can choose, right now, to begin your own tradition. Even if no one calls or sends a card, you can celebrate yourself. You can become the kind of person who gives yourself what you always wished someone else would.

Here are a few gentle ideas for a simple, soul-nourishing birthday:

• Write a letter to your younger self, expressing pride, forgiveness, and encouragement.

• Create a “year in review” video or journal entry, documenting highlights, challenges, and insights.

• Plan your ideal day, even if it’s quiet. Take yourself to lunch. Watch a movie you love. Visit a bookstore or a hiking trail.

• Reach out to someone you love, not just to celebrate, but to connect. Birthdays remind us of the relationships that shape us.

• Make a list of intentions for the coming year. Not resolutions. Intentions. Gentle, hopeful, open-ended.

And for those who feel lonely on their birthdays, I see you. I’ve had those too. But I’ve also learned that when we shift the meaning of our birthday from expecting something from others to giving something to ourselves, everything changes. Self-celebration isn’t selfish—it’s sacred.

Aging is a privilege. One denied to so many. When I look back at all the people I’ve lost, I realize that the greatest gift I can give in their honor is to live fully. To celebrate my own milestones with the kind of reverence they deserved. Every year I am here, I vow to treat my birthday as a victory. Not a superficial milestone, but a sacred mark of endurance, of becoming, of living deeply—even when life gets hard.

Birthdays are bookmarks in the story of our lives. They remind us that we are still in the story—that more chapters are coming, more lessons to learn, more memories to make. Whether you’re turning 17 or 70, you are still a work in progress, and that’s something to celebrate. You don’t need everything to be perfect. You don’t need a party planner or a hundred people around you. All you need is the willingness to stop, breathe, and say: “Today is the day I was born. And that matters.”

And maybe that’s what makes birthdays so special. They return us, even if only for a moment, to the beginning of our own lives. They remind us that we were wanted. That we were brought into this world on purpose, with purpose. Even if we haven’t always felt it, even if we’ve wandered far from our sense of meaning, the date on the calendar remains—a tether to our own sacred arrival.

So, here’s to the quiet birthdays and the loud ones. The solo celebrations and the shared ones. The bittersweet memories, the laughter, the growth, the gratitude. Here’s to my son today, and every parent who watches their child become something more beautiful than they ever imagined. And here’s to you. Whether today is your birthday or not, you are worth celebrating.

Next time your birthday rolls around, try something radical: celebrate it. Even if just in your heart.

Even if you whisper the celebration to yourself. Even if you spend the day in silence, know that it matters. Your life matters. You matter. And the day you arrived on this planet changed the world in ways you may never fully understand.

Happy Birthday, Son, and Happy Birthday to my reader, whenever yours comes. May it be a reminder not just of the day you were born—but of all the reasons you were born to begin with.