Forty

Today is my fortieth birthday. It’s strange to even write that. My mom reminded me this morning that if anyone asks, she had me when she was 12. That’s not true, but if it makes her feel more youthful we can all just agree to go along with it. And, speaking of youthful… this is the conversation I had with my eldest in the car yesterday.

5th Grader: Are you excited to turn 40?
Me: Yeah, I guess I am.
5th Grader: Well, I’m just saying Momma. Welcome to the gray hair stage!
Me: Thank you. I appreciate that.
5th Grader: You know back in Bible times they couldn’t do anything about gray hair, but now we have color and highlights. Thank goodness!!

Thank goodness indeed.

Color and highlights have long been on my list of reasons I’m glad I wasn’t born in “Bible times.” I’d also add contacts, braces, electricity, indoor plumbing, and a myriad of other modern conventions. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it to age 40 had I been born in “Bible times.” I believe God knew that and ordained mine and your days accordingly.

I’m not usually one to be particularly sentimental about adult birthdays, but something about turning forty seems weighty. It’s kind of like having a baby. People have been doing it everyday for thousands of years, but when it happens to you it’s poignant.

I think I thought that by this age I would have a better grip on things like my temper with my kids or my general anxiety/intensity level. I’ve long known I would be a more pleasant person if I could bring it down a notch or ten in those categories. Naively, I thought I would be better in my roles as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend by now. I was hoping to be more patient and grounded, less selfish and critical. Surely people who are forty have a few things figured out, I imagined.

As it turns out, forty is just a number. I’m not a bit wiser or more mature just because we’ve rolled over another day on the calendar. What I am, though, is more grateful and more willing to accept that I’ll never have it all together. I’m just beginning to realize that where there is struggle and shortcoming there is the most hope for growth and grace.

When I think about the past decade and how much life has happened in those ten years I’m overwhelmed with thankfulness. Some of the days {and nights!} have been longer than I knew they could be, but the years have gone by in a flash. And they have been good, good years. When I think about what a gift our days are it motivates me to want to be more intentional about the way I live and love going into these next ten years. I want to lean into my smallness and learn to be a better celebrant of little things, everyday moments, and the people God has placed in front of me.

I also want to commit to laughing more. Fortunately, kids help in this area. The Spouse took the girls into Bed, Bath, and Beyond a few weeks ago to look for a trash can. I realize the fact that we spent half a Saturday looking for a trash can is of concern. But, besides the trash can, the Spouse came back to the car with a picture of a gift the girls were convinced I needed. Now, I’ve been the proud recipient of some interesting gifts in the past {see: New Year, New Pants}, but this one ranks right up there.

What is it, you ask?

It’s a handy device called a Sock Slider for those who need help getting their socks on.

I tell you, I think my girls may have inherited their sweet dad’s knack for gift giving. They seem to know me well!

So, here’s to being old enough for a sock slider and for entering the aforementioned “gray hair stage.”

And apparently I was already gray way back in 2016 anyway, as illustrated by the 5th Grader a couple of years ago. Like she said, thank goodness for highlights!