Honey Babe, Fifty. What a beautiful milestone. And what a journey it’s been. There are many words people use to describe you— caring, generous, godly—but even those feel too small to contain the magnitude of who you are. I’ve had the privilege of watching you closely, not from a distance, but up close in everyday life—in the kitchen, at church, during the quiet moments, the tough seasons, the laughter-filled days—and I want you to know: I see you. I honour you. You are one of the most generous people I have ever known. And I don’t mean the kind of generosity that’s easy or convenient. I mean the kind that stretches, that gives without waiting for thanks, that sacrifices in silence, that chooses people over possessions—always. I’ve seen you fill a car boot with food, gifts, and love, only to give it all away to a single family. You could easily split it between ten people, but no—you give like God gives, in abundance and with joy. And every time you do, I stand in awe. Our friends and family have experienced it too. My aunt at 90, overwhelmed by the quality of your gift. My friends, grown men, calling me to say, “Your wife stocked my kitchen.” And these aren’t one-off moments. It’s who you are. It’s how you live. Your heart for the vulnerable is something sacred. I still remember when three children lost their parents. You didn’t just write a cheque. You took them in, fed them, mentored them, paid their fees, gave them dignity. Today, one of them is thriving in Canada—and it started with your “yes.” And then the others—the young children and their mother who came around to help with chores. You saw their vulnerability and chose to support them. Now they return every holiday, not as strangers, but as sons. You've mothered more children than you birthed, and they are the fruit of your faithfulness. One of your biggest strengths is how quietly and gracefully you handle pressure. While I might express my tension, you become even more composed. You don’t shout or externalize stress. One just feels a certain spiritual presence around you. You're calm, steady, and often retreat into prayer. Over the years, that spiritual side has only grown stronger. It's like watching peace wrap itself in human form. We’ve made sacrifices to live this way. We’ve sold things, postponed pleasures. But you never once doubted. And somehow, as we gave, we received even more—peace, joy, provision, and love multiplied. Our three children have been raised in the currency of generosity and godliness. But you’ve expanded our family in ways I never imagined. When I count our children now, I don’t stop at three—I keep going. I often say, “My job is to give Jemima a soft pillow and a peaceful home.” Because that’s what you deserve. You pour so much into others; it’s my honour to pour into you. We may not always agree—we’ve had our share of disagreements and detours—but I trust your heart. I trust your vision. And looking back, I thank God I never stood in your way—because your purpose has blessed not just our home, but many others too. Fifty is a milestone. But it’s also a mirror. And when you look into it today, I hope you see what I see: a woman of fierce compassion, deep conviction, and unyielding faith. A woman who has loved well, served well, and lived well. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for showing me what love in action looks like. Thank you for filling our lives—and so many others—with beauty, laughter, wisdom, and abundance. May this next chapter be one of overflow. May God increase you, expand you, and reward every seed you’ve sown in secret. I pray for long life, radiant health, prosperity in all things, and a heart that continues to find joy in giving. You are my treasure. My inspiration. My partner. My greatest earthly blessing. Happy 50th birthday, Hon! With all my love, Your husband. An Open Letter to My Jemima on Your 50th Birthday 40 The Birthday Journal
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