Happy Birthday, S. D. Smith

I’m officially 45. 

Here are four or five things I love and am grateful for. Just things, not all of them are the most important stuff. Relax, my dudes. Just some things, man. 

I love pickles and olives, but not together. But I love that mixed olive mashup at some restaurants for spreading on the pre-meal bread.

I love soccer. And let Uncle Sam help you out, here. It’s just football, not futbal. You’re just switching to a new language, not describing a different sport. 

I love hugs. People joke about ‘hugs not drugs,’ but the research is in (for me) and hugs are addictive and awesome, with minimal side-effects. 

I love walks, especially with loved ones, but alone is okay too. Introverts must exercise and walking is a good first step. Literally. 

I love Christianity. Yep. I love Jesus, yes. I love flawed churches and my flawed church and the big flawed Church, for sure. Also, it’s a religion. Yes, the R word. I love it. Christianity is wonderful. It’s a great gang of people if you, too, are flawed, and need to come home to the family of God. Highly recommended. Five stars. 

One to grow on.

I love my family and work. I put them together because they go together. My primary vocation is husband and dad, and my work as an author comes out of that and continually intersects with that. I love it. It’s a hoot. I’m loved here, and I get to love here. It’s a sweet gig. 

Four and five, man. That escalated quickly. I wasn’t gonna do it, but it just came out. 

Love you all, happy birthday to you from me. 

Sam