Love and light

I am 36 today.

Those of you who have been around for awhile may recall why this is a significant birthday for me: for many years, I’ve considered 36 my spirit age, or the age that I consistently feel on the inside, regardless of the number of years I’ve clocked around the sun.

Some people feel perpetually 25. I have a friend who swears she’s meant to be 72. But for me, whether I was logging a late-night shift at the library at 21, shopping for a wedding dress at 25, or struggling to learn the ropes of breastfeeding at 28, somehow I felt I was always on my way to this moment: that my life experiences, my gifts, my heart would most perfectly be used in this way – as a wife, a mom to three little ones, a daughter, a sister. A friend who tries to make sunshine for the ones she loves. A writer. A meal train queen. A school-trip chaperone. Settled in her career. Snug in a church she loves. 36 is more beautiful than I could ever have hoped for, and I am truly more grateful than I ever would have thought possible. Life feels more precious every year.

In some ways, it also feels more complex. For example, I come up short when I compare the neatness of my journey thus far to those of others’ whom I love. I am no more special than anyone else, did no more right or less wrong than anyone else. It is blessing, but undeserved. It is luck, undeserved. I write this with a lump in my throat for those of you reading who have reached a certain age and find yourself not where you thought you’d be. There are a million cruel (and a few delightful) ways for plans to be derailed in this life. I’m sure many are still lying in wait for me.

And I’m looking ahead now – for most of my life, I’ve looked ahead. But now, when I look up, there’s no threshold on the horizon. I seem to have arrived.

All that preparation? It was for this. The sacrifice, particularly financial? It was for this. Those wedding magazines I read before I was engaged, the parenting books I read before I had kids? They led me here. I have often felt like an old soul, often find myself the youngest person in a room. How will things shift as I move away from this apex (of sorts)? Where to next?

Onward —

of course. Don’t worry: I am too optimistic to sit in this space for long. I was clear-eyed about this season of life, and I think I can be clear-eyed about the seasons (so many!) to come. Just because I looked to 36 didn’t mean I thought it would be perfect or without difficulty, and it’s not and it isn’t. Cars need to get towed, children want snacks, I have a bad attitude, people I love get sick, the kitchen counter needs to be wiped again. Lord willing, I have a long and beautiful life ahead of me, and perfection and ease are not the goal.

But awareness is. Gratitude. Presence. Feeling at peace while the fleeting, heartbreaking beauty of this season grates against its grit.

Thank you, Lord, for 36 years. May they have reflected your love and light.

I mined my camera roll for these collages and included pretty much every photo of me from the last year – or at least a representative snap from each event. It’s sweet to see them all together.

P.S. A fascinating article about “subjective age.”