I’VE BECOME THAT GUY

It has happened.

I’m officially old.

Not according to Medicare. According to birds.

At 5:15 this morning, after walking Rosie while normal people were still unconscious, I sat in my backyard with coffee and an app that identifies birds by their songs.

Yes. I have a bird app.

Apparently this is how it begins.

Within minutes, my backyard was basically JFK.

American Robin.

Blue Jay.

Common Grackle.

Northern Cardinal.

Northern Mockingbird.

House Sparrow.

Red-bellied Woodpecker.

Red-eyed Vireo.

Red-winged Blackbird.

European Starling.

I’m sitting there thinking…

Oh wow. A Red-eyed Vireo.

As if six months ago I knew that was a thing.

Meanwhile, they’re all gathering around a bird feeder that has been hanging around for twenty years. It came with the house.

Twenty.

I threw some seed in it and apparently reopened the neighborhood diner.

I used to see older people sitting quietly in their yards watching birds and think…

That will never be me. I’ll be doing important things. Going important places.

Being busy.

And yet, here I am. Coffee in hand. Rosie nearby.

Absolutely thrilled that a cardinal just landed on my ancient bird feeder.

And maybe that’s the surprise of getting older.

You spend the first half of your life trying desperately to make something happen.

Then, if you’re lucky, you discover something was happening all along.

You were just moving too fast to hear it.

Turns out the birds were always singing.

I’m finally old enough to listen. 

Comments

Wooden Tulips

Wooden Tulips T he first time I was ever really afraid- the kind of afraid that makes your body cold from the inside out- was the night Sadie was born. She was supposed to come on Valentine’s Day. Of course she didn’t. Sadie and Erin are both stubborn, so naturally she showed up early. I remember kissing Erin’s forehead, paper hearts taped to the hospital window, me rehearsing the one job I’d been assigned: cut the cord. I was ready to nail it. Dad of the Year. Opening scene. Cue applause. And then- she was here. Tiny cries, a flurry of nurses, scissors in my hand, cord cut, done. Erin was drifting in and out from the C-section meds, crying, laughing, floating. I was waiting to hold our baby. Our brand-new everything. And then a nurse leaned in. Whispered. “I’m sorry. I think your baby has Down Syndrome.” That was the first thing anyone said about my daughter. Not “She’s beautiful.” Not “Congratulations.” Just: I’m sorry. I didn’t even know what that meant yet. How could she k...

The Jacket

E very man has one item of clothing his wife has begged him to throw out for years. Mine was a light-blue jean jacket with a fake white cotton collar. Erin hated that jacket with the kind of passion most people save for politics or pineapple on pizza. I’d had it for years. Presidents had come and gone. My career had risen, collapsed, and tried to rise again. Our kids had grown taller than Erin — which isn’t saying much, but still. And through it all, that jacket kept hanging by the door like a stubborn dog that refused to die. It was hideous. I can admit that now. The collar looked like dirty clouds glued on by a kindergartner’s craft project gone wrong. The denim was the exact shade of regret you get when you bleach jeans one cycle too many. And still - I wore it everywhere. School events. Grocery runs. Parent-teacher conferences. Probably even funerals. It wasn’t clothing. It was my emotional support jacket. Erin tried everything: gentle hints, sarcastic digs, quiet donation runs tha...

The Spirit of Division (and Why We’re All Being Played)

W e hear stories all the time about the supernatural—miraculous healings, near-death experiences, strange whispers in the night that make even skeptics pause. But how do we know what’s real? That’s what investigative journalist (and former atheist) Lee Strobel asks in his new book Seeing the Supernatural . He dives into evidence of the unseen world and invites us to consider something both ancient and terrifyingly current: What if God really does still rule over the spiritual realm—angels, demons, all of it? And maybe that’s where we need to start. Because the real battle today? It’s not just political, cultural, or ideological. It’s spiritual. We like to think politics is about ideas—policy, vision, leadership. But underneath the hashtags and press conferences, something darker is happening. Something feeding on us. Every election cycle, every argument at the dinner table, every “unfriend” click on Facebook— it all fuels a spirit that thrives on outrage. That sp...

Finding Hope

Search This Blog