It's my birthday. I didn't make anything tangible for this post, but I did make some observations and musings. Initially I was going for 31 thoughts for 31 years, but 31 is a lot, so here are 10 (with random photos of moments in my day interspersed).
I don't think I'm getting wiser, but I'm not becoming more cynical either. I still have hope, even on days when the world seems like an ugly, evil place, because I have my kids. I have to have hope for them. I don't have a choice. And at the same time, I have hope because of them. Because they are hope.
I don't have much interest in the past. It happened and formed me, but I am far more invested in the here and now. I am not looking too far ahead in the future either. Why? Because too much is unknown, and dwelling on what might or might not come to be is fruitless, and my trust is not in anything of this world anyway. So I try to do the best I can with what I have at the moment.
I am finally realizing that this is it. No more waiting for the next thing to come, no more "once _____ happens, then I'll be set." I am as "set" as I'll ever be. Ten years ago, I constantly felt that anxiety for the next stage to come. Now, that feeling might creep up on the days when I am searching for a light at the end of the toddler-tunnel, but mostly, I accept that this is my season in life. It's a complicated comfort.
Years ago, I noticed a dad plopped down in the watery sand on the beach with his kids, messy and having fun, as I gingerly stepped in the water by my kid, trying to avoid getting hit by the mud she was flinging. Then I realized what a fool I had been, and I sat down by her, got wet and messy, and it was awesome. These days, it's harder to make or find the time to just sit in the mud with my kids, between schedules and chores and meals and naps. I need to get back in the mud.
I know that my body is getting older, my metabolism is slowing, it is harder to lose those last ten "baby pounds" (from 2 kids ago!), and I can't eat everything I want without paying for it later. I accept that. I won't use it as an excuse to "let myself go," but I get it. However, it is an injustice that my skin can simultaneously have zits and wrinkles. Pick one, Mother Nature! The blemishes of youth or the lines of age... Not both! Personally, I'd take the wrinkles over the pimples.
I keep lists. Lots of lists. Unending lists. Of ideas, things to do, crafts to make, places to go... Shopping lists, chore lists, activity lists, schedules... If it's not on one of my lists, it doesn't exist. I keep a notebook I call "my brain" where I store many of my lists and other creative ideas. When it gets cluttered, I rip out the pages and reorganize it all.
I am a birthday jerk. 40+ of my closest Facebook friends and family wished me a happy birthday, and I hardly ever wish others a happy birthday on their days. Thank you, if you're reading this, and I'm sorry for my thoughtlessness. The well wishes were truly lovely. I got a few really unexpected greetings too... Even my lady-doctor sent me an (automated) email to celebrate me and encourage good female health.
The thing about birthdays (and other festive days) is that I always get this stupid idea that they should be extra-special, and then my expectations are too high for reality to live up to them. And I end up disappointed. But this year, I felt good. Celebrated just enough. It was a pretty ordinary day, punctuated by unusually cold and dreary weather (which normally would bring about a certain level of gloominess to my mood, but not today), ending with gifts and cake to mark the occasion. That was all. No fanfare. Simple and easy and just right.
So I feel the need to make new year resolutions. It's a new year for me, at least. The beginning of my 32nd year of life. So I propose to myself to do 2 things that will hopefully help me and the world, even if only a little bit:
1. Be more responsive. To phone calls, emails, text messages, party RSVPs etc. I often forget to respond or wait until the last minute, and I know it's an annoying and rude practice.
2. Keep a prayer journal. Even if it's just a list of intentions. I sometimes find myself drawing a blank during my daily 30 seconds before the Tabernacle that my youngest kids allow me before screaming through the quiet church that they want "HOLY WATER!" (Or to go outside and see the construction site). And I have been made aware of so many needs in the world, both large and small. I want to use my time before Jesus to present those needs to Him and place them in His hands.
It has become so apparent to me how much like children we are to God. Obviously we are His children, but when I roll my eyes at my 3-year-old's tantrum over something simple or nonexistent, I suddenly picture myself as the 3-year-old, wailing to God about something or other that is as significant as the reason my 3-year-old is crying, when put into a Heavenly perspective. And then I feel silly. But I still love my tantruming child and will pull her into my lap to hug her once she's done with her fit. And God's love is even greater than that.
All that is a little slice of what I've been thinking today. 31 years have taught me a lot, but I am still very unfinished.