30.

Whatever this dreaded fear of joining the 3-0 club is, I'm not getting it. I guess there's the reality that things are starting to break down, and I'm craving 10 hours of sleep at night instead of 6, and the appeal of filling life so full that it's hard to breathe is starting to lose its luster. But aside from the obvious, I'm actually quite excited about a new season, about leaning into the next few years.

There's a freedom that comes with feeling as if you know a little bit more of who you are at the age of 30 than you did at 20. And there's a freedom that comes with the acknowledgement that though you never fully stop growing and adapting and learning, you've done enough searching and digging and molding for enough time that it starts to feel as if it counts. There's a freedom that comes from feeling stronger and more confident and being able to release the idea that you have to have it all figured out and instead start to really live into who you are at present, who God created you to be. It's a gift.

So here I land, three weeks into 30, and I have been poured into so much in that time.

30 thoughtful little gifts from my family. Tasty cupcakes from a dear friend. Beautiful flowers from some of my very favorite littles. Cake and sweet prayers from my ComGroup.

 

And then these:



"Happy happy 30th birthday dear one! I LOVE my thirties. I pray you will continue to stretch into the full potential of who God made you to be."


"May the Lord grant you a year of unexpected gifts."


"Happy birthday friend! Hope it involves a bowl of ice cream as big as your face!" (by one who knows me a little too well!)


"So thankful for your friendship and praying today will be full of love and blessings. Hopeful for the good things to come in year 30!"

And on and on. And those words are exactly what I think everyone should hear most on their 30th. Words of encouragement and excitement and "the best is ahead".

I also stumbled upon this as I was forming these thoughts. It's raw and it's real, and I don't feel like the anti-aging parts represent me at all, but it speaks of being known and loved as we are, and I am soaking in these lines:

The point is that your life is meant to be spent.

You have to let your life wrinkle. You have to let hope get into the fold of things. You are here to be spent. Saving yourself up isn't how the saved are meant to live.

There are days in which I toy with the idea of a safe, contained life, of this "saving myself up". A normal schedule, a larger budget, an 8-5 job. Career success in artistic endeavors. Owning a nice home. Buying furniture that actually matches! A nice, clean, cookie-cutter existence does at times appeal. But when I compare those things to this "me" that I know, well, there's no real comparison at all. (Read: NOT a knock on those who choose those things; it's just not me.) I am unconventional, I am appalled at white picket fences, and I would feel trapped working 8-5 in a high-rise office building and attaining a larger-than-life paycheck. But this idea of spending life, of using life, of growing and aging into who God created us to be – that I can get behind. The idea that it is enough to just be known – by ourselves and by others.

Life is meant to be spent!

Cutting it close to get this in, but... a very happy birthday to the coolest SIX-year-old I know. We love you Wyatt Cody and cannot imagine the world without your smile, energy, incredible golf talent, and life-giving personality. And many more...!

A happy, happy birthday to one of my very favorites; love you, Mom!

Is it faux pas to share a birthday wish? You know, that whole "make a wish" one right before you blow out the candles? Probably. But then, I've never been an advocate for proper etiquette...

Birthdays have never been a huge deal to me. Sure, we always had parties with our friends – sleepovers with treasure hunts were quite popular at our house – and Mom always made the most incredible homemade cakes and desserts. In fact, she has yet to give that up, it's just transitioned a bit to the grandkids now. I think it's her "birthday language of love", and she puts so much time and heart into those creations, from horses to tractors to Ninja Turtles to giraffes. I'm still working on convincing her to open a bakery.

Back on task... We celebrated and acknowledged those special days of birth growing up, but never had the massive invite-50-friends-to-McDonald's-playland-extravaganzas (you know the ones I'm talking about, children of the 80's). I think there's a fine line between celebrating someone and creating a sense of entitlement to lavish gifts and attention. I tend to lean towards avoiding gifts and attention like the plague, to an extreme, but that's another issue altogether.

However, there was this whole "I turned a year older" deal yesterday, and I must admit, it was so special to me because so many thoughtful people encouraged my heart and affirmed my life. {Also of note was the receipt of not one, but two, monkey cards signed by my favorite kiddoes, the best breakfast at Fuego, and time shared with friends over the most fabulous chocolate cake – which disappeared too quickly to get a good picture.}

But here's the thing – which I've been thinking about a lot lately, not just in regards to birthdays: I am so blessed to be surrounded by people who love me well. ("Loving well" is a fairly new phrase for me, but is often used in my circles here; I'm such a fan.) I don't just mean they love me and claim me as a friend; I mean they know me, speak truth to me, and meet me right where I'm at today. They are teaching me to not just love, but to love well. I'm working on receiving that, but my wish is that I would learn to love them well in return – not when it's convenient for me, not when it's easy, not when it makes sense... but when I don't really feel like it, feel out of place, and have to sacrifice my time and energy to do so.

Lord, help us love each other well.

And never be ashamed of eating chocolate cake for breakfast.

Today is owed a post. I may technically be across the ocean somewhere in the bush, but today is a special day. 30 (count 'em!) years ago, I got a big brother. Eh, I guess I wasn't yet around for that, but I made an appearance soon after. To be sure, I can't be too harsh; after all, this occasion means that I, too, am getting... dare I say, "old"? Still, today is worth celebrating. So I have compiled a list of 30 memories/shenanigans/events/etc. that DM and I have gotten into shared. In no certain order:

• Prank calling 911. That happened once, and only once.

• Running the Cowtown marathon

• "Duck hunting" in the living room

• Oakland A's and Dallas Burn games

• Climbing on top of the monkey bars at the yellow house to escape the scary dogs next door.

• Graduation trips. Some of my favorite excursions ever.

• Cheese and cracker competition on the Teton hike (above mentioned graduation trip)

• Playing on the snowmobiles in M's backyard.

• Squirrel hunting with Wyatt out the playroom window. Clarification: I was an innocent encourager bystander.

• Four-wheeler snow sledding in the ditches

• Moped in the Lorenzo parade. You were a celebrity; I rode in the golf cart and shyly waved to the 30 roadside standers.

• Riding bikes through mud puddles in the parking lot down the street from the yellow house

• Birthday pie. Yes, that's PIE, not cake.

• Creek-wading and camping trips

• Micro-machines. Need I say more?

• You packing a soccer ball into the Pecos. (It was the Pecos trip, right?)

• Bear Lake with M while Mom and Dad hiked Flattop

• Perch fishing at LBJ with Granny & Papa

• That time you knocked out (chipped?) my tooth jumping on the bed. I believe there was also a broken tooth/swimming pool incident. My teeth have never been the same.

• Ski lessons at Wolf Creek. I always wanted to be as good as you were. Sometimes I still snowplow.

• White River Youth Camp, Year 1: I got sick, Mom was mean and wouldn't let me come home, and you were nice to me and made sure I was ok. I remember that.

• Christmas morning pictures. And Easter pictures. And first day of school pictures.

• Saved By the Bell. And Dr. Quinn. And Walker Tx Ranger. I'm lumping those together under the 80's TV umbrella.

• Riding with you in the Mustang to school before I got my license. You made me late for band almost every day, and I got so mad at you. Every. Day.

• Watching you announce Wyatt and Emme's arrivals and seeing what a good Dad you are

• Making up our own rules to monopoly. Score the middle stash. Win.

• Robin Hood. Over and over and over and over. (Skip the witch part.)

• Suicide ski trip to Taos

• Rollerblade obstacle course races in the driveway on Taylor. I don't know why we timed them; you always won.

• Surprise at the Art Auction. Seriously still awesome to me.

Happy Birthday, DM, and many more. I'm so very grateful that we get to be friends and siblings. There's no one else I'd rather have my back. Or eat chocolate chess pie with.

Happy 3rd Birthday, sweet Emmerson! What a blessing you are to so many people. Your love for all of God's creatures reminds me so much of myself. Perhaps one day I can get you that pet giraffe. Much love from Aunt Gretchen!