We’re celebrating my 35th birthday today. Well, actually, we’ve been celebrating since Friday. That’s how middle children like to roll on our birthdays (to make up for all the lack of attention from our early years, or at least the perceived lack of attention).
I’m smack dab in the middle of my thirties, the “tired thirties” as Madeleine L’Engle calls this decade of life. And I am tired, but it’s a good tired. Most nights I fall into bed feeling exhausted but accomplished. I get the most important things on my to-do list done each day, because I’m old enough to know what the most important things are–love, serve, read, write.
But there are a few things on my to-do list that have never been there before. Like exercise. Eat less sugar. Consider wearing more make-up (I’ve always been a lipstick-only kind of girl). Power walking around the block, saying no to Twizzlers, and wearing mascara? I hardly recognize my 35-year-old self.
This morning, I’ll raise my Dr. Pepper in a toast to 35. A year that will take me out of the USA for the first time and will bring Joel home. A year that I hope will see David and James reach new goals. A year when I will continue to grow in my love and respect for Lee as a husband, dad, and pastor. A year when I will spend time with my family celebrating my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. A year when hopefully I’ll get to spend time with my best friend, who has a couple kids I haven’t even met yet. A year when God will give me more opportunities to grow in godliness.
