Thoughts as I Enter 40

I remember when my parents turned 40. I was 9, 10 years old and 40 seemed like an age I would never reach. Last Saturday, I turned 40.

For the last little bit, I’ve been thinking about this milestone age and what lessons I can take into the next decade. My 20s and 30s were filled with a lot of changes: getting married, moving across country, having kids, ministry life, homeschooling. And I learned a lot through all those experiences. Something about hitting a new decade made me look back and consider what to take with me.

Take time to think before you speak. As I’ve gotten older, some things seem easier, others more difficult. I remember the younger me rattling off all my thoughts, spur of the moment, never considering if there was nuance or gray areas. Everything was black and white to me; what I liked, what I disliked, right and wrong, helpful and hurtful. Age has drawn me in, brought me to moments of reflecting for days and still being hesitant to verbalize my thoughts. It’s not that my standards have changed. What I view as morally wrong and right are the same, but I’d like to think I’m more considerate in how I share my views or maybe I’m more particular about when I voice my opinion at all.

Choose your attitude. I’ve heard that one thing you can always control is your attitude. Outside pressures and perception from others, things running late or failing are usually outside our control. But we can decide how these unexpected things will affect us. Attitude matters. I think after having kids this became more apparent to me! Having a joyful or positive outlook can make even a difficult day a little better. And who doesn’t want to be around a happy person!? When I think of this in light of sanctification, it doesn’t mean we paste on a smile and never show sorrow or frustration. But it does mean that we don’t allow those circumstances to dictate how we treat people or deal with life.

Popularity does not equal value. So much of our current culture is obsessed with likes, clicks, and being viewed positively. People flock to concerts and sporting events to be able to participate in the “it moment” of right now. If you are popular you are listened to, even if you have nothing worth listening to. The more “followers” you have, the better chance of landing a book deal, TV spot, sponsorship, etc. Being popular is the idol so many are striving for. But popularity does not make a person correct, smart, informed, or kind. The world is full of interesting stories and people and experiences that are largely ignored because we don’t believe they are as valuable as the stories and thoughts of a popular person. In the life of a Christian, it shouldn’t be this way. We shouldn’t clamor for the latest and greatest in the eyes of the world. We shouldn’t judge a person’s value on what they think or contribute to society. Every life is valuable and precious, every story worth listening to.

I’m still processing, I’m still learning. It will be a lifelong pursuit and not just something for entering this decade. But I’m thankful for the opportunity and space to consider these things. And my hope is that they spur you on to think too, no matter what age you find yourself.

Photo by Bruce Tang on Unsplash

The Countdown Month

In almost exactly a month, I’m going to turn 40.

I’m not upset or worried or overwhelmed at the prospect. I don’t think a number has to change your outlook on how you live. But I know that entering another decade is a milestone and a blessing. I don’t take a day for granted and I know everything could change in a minute. I’m very thankful for these 40 years.

It’s easy to become reflective when milestones are on the horizon. We remember past moments, maybe regret previous decisions. Over the last two months, I’ve been considering how I’ve changed in the last decade, lessons I’ve learned, things I want to aspire to.

Initially, I thought I’d share 40 thoughts on 40 years but as I began writing them down, it was easy to come up with more than 40. I don’t intend to share them all with you. But over the next few blog posts, I want to highlight the ones that stuck out the most, the ones that kept coming to mind.

As previously stated, I don’t take turning 40 for granted. No age is guaranteed. Which makes the process of approaching this birthday exciting and a time to consider. How have I grown in the last decade? How have I changed and is it for the better? I try to not dwell on regrets but those can be life shaping also.

My goal in this reflective process is to put to words some of what I’m feeling going into my 40th year. And to also challenge you to look at your life. Even if you don’t have big celebrations on the horizon, there is always space to learn and be grateful for this life. I hope my future posts encourage you to do just that.

Photo by Seyedeh Hamideh Kazemi on Unsplash

Getting Sentimental

A few weeks ago was my birthday.

I’m already sensitive and sentimental — I cry {very} easily during movies — but as I get older, things are hitting me harder, I appreciate things more, I reminisce. For some reason, in the midst of turning a year older, I thought about two people who I wish I knew better but still impact me with how I witnessed them living: my grandma {my dad’s mom} and my granddaddy {my mom’s dad}.

My Grandma Short wasn’t given to many words. My grandpa was the big talker in the family. Grandma was content to listen, laugh, and cook. If my grandpa forgot someone’s name or part of a story, she would call from the kitchen or poke her head into the living room to offer the information. She was always in the kitchen, usually baking. Pies, puddings, cookies, chocolate dipped-everything. I remember when we would visit she would be by the sink when I woke up in the morning and by the sink when I said goodnight. She didn’t do anything quickly; slow, patient, deliberate would be good ways to describe her process. I never heard her raise her voice unless she was trying to get Grandpa’s attention. But it wasn’t that she didn’t have opinions. When she didn’t approve of something — whether it was something her grandkids did or something on TV — she would shake her head or slowly shake her finger. It was enough of a punishment to know she was disappointed.

I’ve often longed for her calm approach to life. If she was worried about things, I could never tell. She also wasn’t a complainer. As she got older, her feet really bothered her. She didn’t have any — literally any — fat on the bottom of her feet so when she stood and cooked all day, even with her thick-soled shoes on, she would almost limp into a chair after dinner. It became a tradition that I would rub her feet almost nightly when we would visit. She would never complain but when I pressed a certain way, she would wince a little. She often fell asleep during these foot rubs and would apologize after.

Everything she did pointed to these two truths: she loved God and she loved her family.

My granddaddy was just as quiet. When we would visit their Tennessee farm, I remember him spending the mornings in the fields and the afternoons in his office. He taught Sunday School at their church for decades and would spend hours reading and studying every week. He always struck me as contemplative. He didn’t feel the need to fill silence, often sitting and gazing out the window even if someone else was in the room. I remember as a very talkative little girl wondering why anyone would be content to just watch the birds fly by and not comment on it.

As inclined as he was to silence, he did laugh. I remember his eyes crinkling with laughter while we watched The Three Stooges. My Me-Ma {grandma} had a running collection of sad movies where the animal dies at the end and we would regularly watch them. Granddaddy would wander into the room, see what was on the TV and say, “Y’all watching that Old Yeller again? Y’all knows how it ends, don’t ya?” and walk out chuckling. Even as he became more forgetful and slower toward the end of his life, I still remember him whistling, softly laughing when something struck him funny, and content.

Both of these people had seen hardship {Grandma’s brother died when she was a teenager and Granddaddy’s parents died when he was young} but they didn’t let difficulty define them or keep them from smiling. They both faced life with the perspective that God was in control.

I wish I would have had more opportunities to sit and ask questions and learn from them. The memories I do have are precious and going into this next year God has given, I’m making a conscience effort to not let the things around me dictate my mood or attitude. I want to find joy in simple things, serve my family well, and point others to Christ by my daily attitude.

Do you ever think what your legacy will be for those who know you? How would you like to be remembered?

Photo by James Besser on Unsplash.

A New Perspective on Birthdays

We've been in birthday mode at our house this month. My youngest turned one last week and my birthday was a few days after. My two older children were very excited to be planning and preparing for a first birthday party and going out to lunch for my birthday.

Somewhere along the years, birthdays lose the magic they had when we were children. We start dreading the day that rolls around every year, a sign we are another year older. We downplay the day, maybe fudge on our age. The joy of each year bringing new adventures and learning new things doesn't excite us anymore.

I will admit, this year I was not looking forward to my birthday. I didn’t want to admit how old I was turning, even to myself. In the months before, I thought about all the things I haven't done yet, the sleep I've lost because of my kids, the things I've failed at, the people I've hurt. My life doesn’t look like I expected it to at this age. To be blunt, I was discouraged with where I am and all the wasted years.

But after seeing the excitement of my children as they woke up every morning and asked if it was finally a birthday day, I took a long look at what those years behind me meant.

For one thing, the years are a testament of God’s grace and protection in my life. My reaching another birthday is not a surprise to God. He continues to show patience and mercy with me as I follow him, make mistakes, and start following him again.

I’m also not in the same place I was a year ago. I’ve grown in my mothering abilities — not without some failures — I’ve learned more about God through my Bible reading, seen answered prayer, and witnessed people changed. I would like to think I’m more mature but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

As hard as it is to admit that I’ve lived another year that I’ll never get back, when I looked at the attitude I was displaying because of that fact, I was somewhat ashamed. Tommy and I remind our children to ‘Do all things without complaining’ and ‘In everything give thanks’ and I noticed as February drew closer those verses could not be used to describe me.

Have you noticed when you first meet someone with children you ask their ages? The answer gives a clue to what they are able to do, their school grade and what they might be learning. How old you are is big news until you reach mid 20s. Then most people start to answer the age question with, ‘I graduated high school awhile ago,’ or ‘I don’t remember being that young.’ Suddenly our age is perceived as a negative strike against us, instead of the banner we proudly held as a youngster.

Well, I’m thankful for every year of life God has granted me. Every one of those 365 — sometimes 366 days — is a witness that God is patient and gracious and faithful. He has worked in my life and through various situations in every one of my years. Some brought more tears than smiles, others were covered in joy and laughter. But through every year God has been the unchanging guide. I’m no longer ashamed to proclaim my new age. And I am no longer disappointed with the haven’t dones and missed chances of my life. I’m challenging myself and you to give God our days and years and praise him for every one.

And by the way, I turned 35.

Photo by Thomas AE on Unsplash