Birthdays

They are days to celebrate—celebrate each other and all God can do to make a year so special. This past Monday my husband turned 40, a number that sounds much older than we both feel. Several weeks ago I asked him what he wanted to do to celebrate, and he jokingly replied that we should have a Cinco de Mayo party (two days prior to his actual birthday). Before I could finish my sentence asking who we should invite, he said quite simply, “Ruth and Emmanuel.” 

So on Saturday he thought he was attending a leadership meeting for the youth theater company we volunteer for. It was a perfect set-up, especially because we get together all the time. Even when we walked into our friends’ house and people jumped out of every corner yelling “Surprise!” B still didn’t realize it was a party for him; he thought we were celebrating Cinco de Mayo. That says a lot about how selfless my husband is. When our friends’ four-year-old son handed him a birthday card, he realized that we definitely were not having a group meeting. But that wasn’t the best part of the night.

Fast forward about 10 minutes. My friend Katie had set up her computer with a huge screen (sheets serve multiple purposes!) in the front room. Barak hadn’t noticed when I snuck out of the room because I had a very important Skype call to make. I will forever remember the moment I looked up and saw his face as he walked down the hall. He couldn’t see or hear our kids yet, but he figured it out. With the biggest smile, he said, “Oh…is this what I think it is?” Right then he stepped into the room and saw Ruth bigger than life on the wall. It didn’t matter that we had Skyped with them for two hours that morning. Nope, all that mattered was that he got to celebrate his birthday with his kids. Such a true father. With all of our friends gathered around, we brought out a cake and everyone, including our kids and their foster parents and sister, happily sang “Feliz Cumpleanos.”  Emma was pretty shy and only stayed on screen for a moment. But everyone in the room will remember when Ruth looked right at B and said—in her limited but practiced English—“Happy birthday, Papi. I love you.”

Some presents will never have a price tag.