Today is a special day.
No, it’s not a holiday. No one’s baking casseroles or hanging flags. But it’s worth marking just the same.
Today is the First of Maude.
That’s right—Maude, not May. A brand new, never-before-seen, completely made-up month. A month that lasts only seven days. A month born out of necessity, stubborn hope, and the irrepressible need to escape the emotional DMV that has been April.
Why Maude?
Because, friends, I’ve had enough of April.
April took a few things from me:
My position as lead pastor.
My chance to preach Easter (do you know how much that one hurt? A sermon on resurrection, and I had to stay buried?).
My rhythm, my expectations, and any illusion of control I had left.
But it also gave me something: clarity.
Clarity that I couldn’t change the calendar, but I could change how I looked at it. And if April was going to keep dragging me through Good Friday with no Easter morning in sight, well then I’d just have to create a new month to get me to the hope I was clinging to.
Enter: Maude.
Who Is Maude?
Think of Maude as the sassy old woman who’s seen some things.
She’s got a raspy voice, drives a Cadillac with expired tags, and rolls her eyes at the mention of “vision boards.”
Maude knows life is jacked up.
She doesn’t pretend it isn’t.
But she’ll still get out of bed, put on a chunky necklace, and cuss at the sunrise until it decides to shine.
Maude is a mood.
Maude is a mindset.
Maude is mercy wrapped in menopause.
And let’s be honest—Maude just sounds like April’s overlooked, emotionally complex older sister. The one who didn’t get the poetry and flowers but still somehow made it through the mess.
Maude has scars and stories. And she’s not trying to impress anyone.
Why You Might Need Maude, Too
You see, sometimes life hits you so hard that the best thing you can do is reframe the narrative. If the chapters you’re reading are bleak, maybe you need a new page. If the month you’re living in feels cursed, maybe it’s time to rename it.
We don’t need to wait for permission or for “the first of the month” to start fresh.
Sometimes you just need to look around, plant your flag, and declare:
“This is Maude now. I’m starting over, thank you very much.”
This is a spiritual hack. A neurological backdoor. A sacred reset.
It’s less about denying reality and more about rewriting the tone of it.
What Happens in the Month of Maude?
I’ll preview my book, The Jacked Up Life, with excerpts and insights before the release on May 1st.
I’ll launch a brand-new podcast, The Jacked Up Life with Michael DiMarco.
I’ll keep writing, speaking, and walking this strange, sacred post-pastor path God has called me to.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll laugh a little more at the absurdity of it all instead of crying myself through it.
So Welcome to Maude
It’s not perfect.
It’s not long.
But it gets us through the final stretch of April and into a new chapter with a little more courage, a little more honesty, and a whole lot more grace.
You can stay in April if you want. Or you can join me in Maude—where new beginnings don’t need permission, and resurrection doesn’t have to wait for Easter.
Happy First of Maude,
—Michael
Yep I need a month of Maude!
I need a fresh start, I'm going to like the month of Maude. :)