Years ago I led a small group and one night I forgot a birthday card for one of the girls. That night the verbal birthday card was invented. Each of us told the birthday holder what we appreciated most about her. It became a powerful tradition of marking the day of a dear one’s birth by naming the gift that they were. It was awkward and vulnerable and beautiful and intimate all at once.

Steve would have been 43 today. All day long I’ve had this strange longing to speak a verbal birthday card to him, to tell him what I loved about him. What I love, what I miss, still.

I loved how he loved grand surprises. Like showing up at Disneyworld unannounced. Like being Santa. Even when it was no longer a surprise because he did it so often.

I loved his heart for justice, for the oppressed, for the refugee, for the marginalized.

I loved that he could engage deeply and thoughtfully on everything from educational theory to justice to theology to Brandon Sanderson.

I loved that every time he quoted a movie or show it ended up sounding like Jimmy Stewart in “It’s a Wonderful Life”.

I loved that he could get my mom to go on road trips for the sole purpose of being able to listen to an entire Harry Potter book on CD rom.

I love that every time the small humans saw him, from the time they were tiny, they would yell ‘STEVE!!!’ and run to hug him. They never said his name quietly and they didn’t walk.

I loved celebrating his birthday with dinner at Greek Islands that always included calamari and Arni Fournou (and mine at Wishbone).

I loved that every 4th quarter of a school year he would have his 5th graders do five-chapter dissertations complete with hypotheses and literature reviews.

I loved that he willingly read and edited my dissertation drafts ad nauseum, making me a better thinker, a better writer, a better practitioner. I would not have ended up the second Dr. Kafkas without him.

I loved how whole-heartedly he loved those who were dear to him. He so loved the small humans (and the grown ones) and they loved him back in equal measure

I’m not generally the sentimental sort. But today I am so very grateful for the gift of knowing him. All day long I found myself reflecting on the extravagant gift I have in the dear ones that fill my life. Steve is still teaching me to pay attention to what really matters, to the humans. To recognize and celebrate the gift. To not wait for a less busy moment, to not get distracted by the noise. To do it now.