Lordy, Lordy I'm Finally 40!!!

I write for many reasons, but today, I’m writing to document.  I’m writing because I want to remember.  And it’s funny . . . because this day I want to remember?  I dreaded it.  I avoided thinking about it, talking about it, planning for it.  I cursed it by the minute for hurling towards me with no regard for my feelings.  Heck, I even left town so I could bury my head in the sand and pretend it wasn’t actually happening. 

I turned 40 this weekend.  I know it beats the alternative people, but man did I waste a whole lot of days and weeks and, let’s face it, years wishing my 40^th birthday wasn’t looming on the calendar.  I think I started fearing this day immediately upon turning 35, when I could no longer say I was in my early 30’s and the next big one was a REALLY big one.

My disdain was never really about the age.  Yes, 40 is often considered middle age, and I suppose it might be.  But my middle age could have been 20 and today might be all I have left on this side of heaven, so it wasn’t the “middle age” title that invoked such fear about a specific birthday.  I want to grow old.   I want to see my children mature into the people God intends them to be.  I want to hold grandbabies and sit by my husband in a rocking chair somewhere and eat ice cream for breakfast and say whatever I want and all those other things old people get to do.  I want those things in my life.  40 is just a number . . . a single stop on the way to a lifetime.  I get that.

It wasn’t the age that upset me.  It was the significance of having had four decades to get things right, and realizing I still have so very far to go.

For some reason, I truly believed I’d have it all together at 40.  I don’t know where I got such a ridiculous idea, but somehow I thought when I turned 40, I’d be the person I always imagined myself to be – calm, loving, patient, trusting, selfless, humble, generous, peaceful.  Do you think of those words when you think of me?  Yea, me neither.   What pops into my head are words like worried, anxious, impatient, busy, selfish, greedy, envious, striving. 

When I thought about turning 40, I honestly thought God would have shaped and molded me into who I wanted to be by then.  And there, of course, lies the problem.  You see, this life isn’t about who I want to be.  It never has been.  It’s about who HE wants me to be, and clearly, He’s not done with me yet.  On Saturday, my fortieth birthday, I finally found comfort in that.

It was a wonderful day.  The stars aligned from the moment I woke up and looked at the clock.  7:11 am on July 11^th.  I grinned and felt God wink at me.  Only He could remind me he was there the moment I awoke.

There was a back rub in bed, big morning hugs from the kids, coffee by the pool.  I decided several months earlier that I needed something to help me look forward to turning 40, so I told Adam I wanted to give the kids the two things they most wanted on my birthday – a phone for our rising seventh grader since, according to him, he’s the only kid in his whole entire grade who doesn’t have one (but mainly because it’s time for him to have one), and earrings for our rising fourth grader, since she’s been asking to get her ears pierced for over four years now and Adam finally consented if it would help me deal with my 40^th birthday. J

I sat them on the couch and turned my phone on video mode.  Reminded them that the thing that makes mamas happiest is when their children are happy.  Libby opened her earrings first.  She reached into her bag, pulled them out and smiled.  I told her she was getting her ears pierced later that morning, and that daughter of mine . . . she lit up like a star.  Joy.  Pure joy right there in front on me, despite my still sinful heart.  Charlie began to pick up his gift bag and suddenly, it was ringing.  The bag was ringing, and his eyes opened up so big and bright and blue I thought I saw heaven inside.  More glimpses from God.  Reminders I needed.

The morning was a blur of happiness.  There was a smoothie while the kids went swimming, sweet text messages, emails, and phone calls from family and friends, and a quick trip to the outdoor mall, where our almost ten year-old sat in a chair brimming with excitement over the aqua gemstones in her ears and our twelve and a half year-old said, as though all was finally right in his world, “This phone just feels so natural in my pocket.”  What could be better?

We walked on the beach after lunch and God was everywhere.  His creation stretched out before us in all directions – shells under our feet, the sun shining overheard, the ocean whispering his name with the crest of every wave, beckoning us to look out at the vastness and remember – only Him.  Only He could conjure such wonders.  Only He could make such beauty – the sandy beaches and shimmering blue waves as far as the eye can see.  Only His love is so wide and so long and so far. 

We went parasailing.  The kids and I, floating 1200 feet above the gulf with a gorgeous parachute trailing behind us, the boat bouncing below like a toy on the water.  It’s quiet at 1200 feet up.  Our legs dangled and the breeze blew gently and we talked about how cool it was, and they might not remember it forever, but I will.

We had dinner on the beach.  There was delicious red snapper and a piece of key lime pie with drizzles of raspberry sauce and a candle to blow out.  We watched a young man propose to his girlfriend by the water, and it seemed like just yesterday my own husband was down on one knee like that.  The kids played with the frisbee while we watched the sun go down, sinking into stunning streaks of pink and orange behind clouds of the deepest gray. The crowd, hundreds of people there to see the sunset, cheered as it finally disappeared below the horizon.  My heart was so full of gratitude at that moment.  For God’s abundant blessings.  For life and love and family and friends.  And yes, even for turning 40.

The perfect day turned into the perfect night with a poolside foot rub and a dip in the hot tub with my best friend on earth, the man I’ve now spent almost half my life with – the one who only sees good in how the years have changed me.  The stars twinkled and the gratitude grew.

I’m two days past 40 now.  Our trip to the beach is almost over.  We head back to Atlanta tomorrow to a house full of boxes and a dream come true – for my 40^th birthday, I got a new house.  We move in this week and I can hardly wait to make it our home. 

I don’t have it all right today, as I once thought I would.  I guess the reality is, I never will.  But God is right here beside me every step of the way.  I’m absolutely certain of it.  He will not stop working in my heart to make it look more like His, no matter how many days I live.  And that’s the best part of being 40.  Knowing.  Knowing myself.  Knowing Him.

Grateful

Thanksgiving.


Giving thanks.


To Him.


For Him.


Because every blessing . . . all of them . . . come from Him.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!  May you gobble 'til you wobble, and may your day be filled with His abundant blessings!


Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name, make known among the nations what he has done.
Psalm 105:1

Turn on the Light

Life has been a bit of a whirlwind lately, and the words just haven’t come.  That Lent project of mine seems so far in the past – the days when I could find gratitude around every corner.  Turns out, when you’re searching for things that make you feel thankful, the world seems full of those things.  You feel thankful.  But when you stop looking, the gratitude is no longer so easily found.  And the thankfulness?  Well, it begins to wane as many of those things you once counted as blessings begin to bear down more like burdens.

It’s when I’m in the dark that I realize how far I have to go.  When life is hard and everything feels like work and I doubt and fear and dread.  That’s when I understand the true state of my soul.  That’s when all signs point to the fact that I still don’t look anything like Jesus. 

He’s in there somewhere.  Buried deep among my discontent, he sits patiently waiting for me to look past my selfish mess and see him reaching for me.  Every so often, I acknowledge that he’s calling my name, and I rush towards him, full of eagerness for our reunion.  But the connection is brief.  I’m like a child who races towards her father when he shows up at the park, only to give him a quick hug before running off again, free to go and do and be as she pleases.

I know I should linger in his presence.  He is the only one who can provide the comfort I seek.  And yet, I search for it in anything . . . in everything else . . . and then act surprised when there is no comfort to be found.

There will always be dark places in our lives, and dark is difficult .  It’s disorienting and dangerous and it makes us feel so alone.  Just imagine being in a completely dark room – nothing but blackness all around.  You can’t even see what’s right in front of you.  You’re scared and you’re stuck and there seems to be no hope at all.  Now, think about what the flame of even one small candle brings to that dark place.  With a single spark, physical light enters your surroundings.  It makes the darkness recede, and suddenly, you have knowledge and understanding.

Jesus is light.

When life is dark, He is the one who illuminates what is real and shows us the way.  We just have to remember to look for the light.

I stopped looking.  That little Lent project of mine – the channeling my inner Ann Voskamp and counting blessings each and every day – it ended when Easter came.  I celebrated the resurrection – the single greatest reason for hope - and then I stopped looking for reasons to be thankful. 

Man I have SUCH a long way to go.

You see, when I don’t focus on the source of light, all I see is dark.  When I don’t let the light of the world bring clarity and truth that point me in the right direction, I end up in stumbling through blackness.

Light overcomes darkness.

Jesus overcame death.

If I walk towards the light . . . if I run to Jesus . . . I will find my way.  I will find the comfort and peace and freedom I’m looking for.  The dark will disappear and I will be thankful again. 

My Lent Project: Day 1

Instead of giving UP something for Lent, I’m giving THANKS for the many blessings of life.  Here’s what I’m feeling incredibly thankful for today . . .

The snooze button.

Snuggling with my husband under warm covers.

Heat on a chilly morning.

Toilets.

Toilet paper.

Coffee. With caffeine.  And cream.

A puppy that comes running out to greet me every morning, slipping and sliding on the hardwoods like Bambi on ice.

A working dishwasher filled with clean dishes when I wake up.

My 11 year-old son coming downstairs every school day dressed and ready to go as though he’s been up for hours.

My 8 year-old daughter stumbling downstairs every school day, still half asleep, with her hair all over the place and crinkles on her face from the sheets.

Freshly painted kitchen cabinets with new round hardware that always looks exactly right, as opposed to the rectangular drawer pulls I used to have that made my brain break because people with OCD can’t have knobs that don’t stay straight!

Electricity.

My washing machine and dryer.


Tony Horton's balance and power workout.

A shower.

Hot water.

Freshly mopped floors.

A car that starts on the first try.

The motherland Super Target.

Broccoli cheese quiche from the Patio.


A debit card that isn't declined.


Windshield wipers.


Watching my kids devour the same Girl Scout cookies I loved when I was a kid.


Jesus, who taught us what it means to love. 

Gobble, Gobble, Give, Give

I will praise God's name

in song

and glorify him

with Thanksgiving.

Psalm 69:30

 

 Perhaps the key to giving thanks isn't in the thanks. Perhaps the key to giving thanks is actually in the giving. 

 

Perhaps when we give . . . of our time, of our money, of our talents, of our love . . . we aren't simply giving.  We are living out the gratitude in our hearts.  We are living thankfully.  And in that, we aren't simply whispering a "Thank you" to our God.  We aren't simply offering him a fleeting moment of worship as we look around to take stock of the blessings he has provided - family, friends, home, health, food, freedom. 

 

When we live thankfully, we shout from the rooftops and scream from the valleys and holler from the nations that
we will give to serve the One who gave it all for us. 

 

No, I don't think the key to giving thanks is really in the thanks at all. 

 

It's in the giving.  

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, my friends!  May your extended family not drive you crazy, may the calories not count at all, and may we all find a way to live out the gratitude in our hearts this holiday season.   

 

 

 

 



Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Thank you, God. Thank you for allowing me to wake up and take another breath. Thank you for the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the words to tell others what you did . . . what you still do. Thank you for a warm bed, in a dry home, in a city filled with every convenience, in a country where freedom reigns. Thank you for the thousands of men and women who serve and, sometimes, sacrifice it all to protect that freedom. Thank you for the man lying next to me, who shows me each day what it means to truly love. Thank you for Charlie and Libby, who are love. Thank you for my family and friends, for the lessons they share and the joy they bring. Thank you for health, for a body that moves and functions without a thought. Thank you for the abundance of food on my table today. Enough for many days. Enough for many people. Thank you for the countless miracles I can witness every second if I simply take the time to notice them - the glory of nature, the change of seasons, the passing of time. Thank you for happiness. Thank you for laughter. Thank you for peace. Thank you, God.