seems like every year, the week or so before my birthday, i find myself in a reflective mood. so, here are some of my it's-almost-my-birthday thoughts. also, my isaac-boy thinks it's pretty funny to remind me that i am almost 40. and both maddie and isaac go back and forth between laughing about that ben and i are getting "old" and laughing about that ben and i don't act old at all. last night, isaac told me that i won't be old until i break a hip or something, because that happens to old people. so - hopefully, if that's the aging standard, i never grow old!
often, i don't feel my age. what is 38 (on thursday) heading toward 40 anyway?
some time ago, one night when i curled up in bed, on my side, legs tucked up, back pressed against ben, like usual, i looked up, out our window at all the stars shining so brightly, so beautifully in the dark sky. i found orion's belt, in the south eastern sky, and thought how i like sleeping under the pathway that orion, the strong warrior, takes through the night.
i also felt distinctly like a little kid.
but i am married; i have been for more than 16 years. and i have a 14-year-old daughter and a 13-year-old son. how is this possible? how am i old enough for all of this?
i rested there. and felt all sorts of silly and strange and happy and thoughtful.
i still sit on the ground and the floor like a little kid. now though, if i sit too long, my legs start to go a little tingly.
i love to ride my bike. and i love to jump into a lake - make a big splash. but it takes a lot more encouraging myself to take that leap. once i've done it, though, i'll jump over and over again. i love to grab a sled, make a run for it, and go flying down a snow-covered hill.
i am a funny juxtaposition of young and old, of skip across a parking lot and find all of the goodness in an old hymn, of hunker down with a children's book and read aloud with all the voices and pull an ancient text off the shelf and savor all of the rich old words.
there was a period in my life when i felt old. much older than my calendar age. there was lots of life and living, good and hard, beautiful and lonely, times that stretched me, times that i grew through rather than allowing myself to give up. ben and i married at twenty-one. lots of people told us that was too young. we had babies at twenty-three and twenty-five. working different jobs and moving through different living situations and making business decisions and navigating family relationships and schooling for ourselves and our children and parenting and being a spouse and finding time to play and time to rest and growing and facilitating counseling and leading small groups and all of the pieces of living, well, in some ways, we crammed may years worth of living into just a few short ones. and in some ways, all of this living aged me, aged my spirit, aged my soul. there is a timbre and a quality to life, though, that comes from circumstances walked through and mercy received and sacrifice made gracefully.
there is a softness to skin that is slightly wrinkled, that has had to give way for babies to grow, that is feeling the effects of 38 years worth of gravity, that has soaked up sun and fought off chill, that has been shared in the grasping of a hand, in the hugging of a friend, in the comforting of an infant, in the caressing of another, in the loving of a spouse. some of the skin has been cut or scraped, left ragged or stitched up. all of the skin tells story, speaks life.
there is a twinkle in the eye that has learned how to look, what to see, what to enjoy, what to be grateful for.
there is peace in a heart that has learned what to hang onto, what to ponder, what to forgive and grasp lightly. {i don't believe that painful things really can be or should be forgotten, but there can be peace and rest in knowing that what another meant for harm or selfishness, for hurt and shame, God wants to use all of that for good; those circumstances can create depth of character and can quietly offer healing to many souls.}
there is something pretty wonderful about having a spouse and kids and friends and parents who have grown to know me well, who know just what word or bit of snail mail or gift or outing or adventure or peaceful moment will make my heart overflow. and something wonderful about knowing them, too, and knowing all these ways to bring them joy.
i am much closer to 40 than to 30 now. and really, that is fine and good. i am grateful that i {mostly} feel young. i will not mind the silver hair that is bound to come {my mom has beautiful silver-white hair, and, with joy, i'm finding a few of these hairs sprinkled throughout my pixie-cut}; i will not mind the wrinkles and the changes; i am finding the good in the lessons i've learned, the experiences i have had and continue to live, the time to love and be loved, the time to find the good and count gratitudes and share bit of sunshine, the chances to bear witness and speak blessing, embracing this life i have been given.
i am so grateful for you, friends. may our years be filled with joy-experiencing and joy-sharing, so that no matter the number of our days, each one will be filled to overflowing with good.
and may we all go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.
xoxo, e
p.s. some links i've saved for reading and watching that you may enjoy, too ::
some of the most beautiful ladies talk about just being
lovely, fun, quirky, amazing 100-year-old women talk about beauty, style, love, loving what you do, happiness, and being best friends,