40

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40

Growing up in a rather charismatic Christian environment, I had developed a secret belief that Jesus would come back when I turned 20. This little hidden belief was strangely solid and I genuinely believed it. When I say it out loud it is laughable and makes me feel a little silly. However, when I turned 20, in the year 2000, I felt like I had just entered bonus time that I wasn’t expecting. Like going on holiday and at the end of the it someone tells you that your trip has been extended an additional week.

I wasn’t a very ambitious 20 year old, at least not that I can remember. Fun, yes, full of youthful zeal and energy, definitely. What I knew was that I wanted to get married at some point and I wanted to travel. That was about the extent of what I really knew I wanted.

Well the sweetest thing happened right around my 20th birthday. I met my future husband, we went on our first official date on Valentine’s Day (mind you he was technically dating another girl and he promptly left our date and went to break up with her), a few short weeks later we were official. Everything felt right about him. As we walked back to our college campus in the early hours of the morning one night, holding hands, I felt a gentle nudge to give this a chance. That chance quickly turned into the love I had dreamed of having, steady and constant, solid and real. It was just the beginning.

My 20’s were full of Alaskan adventures, marriage and honeymoon bliss. Settling into life as a wife, saying goodbye to family and friends as we moved overseas to Northern Ireland. Doubting that Northern Irish people were actually speaking English while being embraced by this new group of people and culture where we had no family ties. Learning to live in a community of like-minded people while communally living and throwing ourselves into a new, shared way of life that suited our young years. Lots of travel and world view changing moments. Certain dreams came true, new ones were birthed, all the while the dream of a family came into clearer focus yet remained just out of reach.

Enter my 30’s.

Words I would use to describe those years? Well…bitter, frustrating, surprising, fulfilling, sad, prayer filled, enriching, heartbreaking, soul destroying, and solid. The 30’s have been the hardest thus far. Failed rounds of IVF/ICSI, personal shortcomings, artistic struggles, loss of illusions, leaving Northern Ireland, and losing my father. On the flip side my 30’s have been the richest. I ran a marathon, opened a community coffee shop through our church, learned to play guitar (a little bit anyway). Went to new depths in my marriage, finally became the mother I dreamed of and longed to be while watching my husband be the father I knew he would be and more. Embraced the beauty and love of so many friendships. Received the gift of living closer to my parents during my father’s last year of life, watched our sons get to know their Alaskan family and roots, while watching them soak up Idaho family summers and winters. Settling back into the PNW life that we had started so many years ago while learning to be present in the chaos.

This past decade I have also been on a journey to my own personal core. At times it’s felt like falling down the rabbit hole, not knowing where the ground or walls are, desperately reaching for something to grab onto. Other times it has been a welcome free fall, letting go of that which no longer serves me, and allowing myself to be held by the wholeness of God as I become whole. I have learned more about myself than ever before. This process has allowed me to expand within my limitations, lean into the strength of my weaknesses, and embrace the beauty of my imperfections. Laugh lines and section scars remind me that I have been living in the joy and pain of my life.

As I stand on the mountain top of these past 40 years, I look behind me with a content heart. I have much to be thankful for and I do not take it for granted. I am a pilgrim who has walked and endured many miles. I have met wonderful souls along the way and am thankful to have married one of the richest of them. We now hold tiny hands as well and will help guide tiny feet along this continuing path. I carry with me a rucksack filled with books, journals, earrings, stones, and shells. Trinkets of value to no one but me. So today I pause and take in the view. The many mountains that have been climbed, the valley’s filled with sorrows, the landscape that has forever been changed by loss. While the sun peaks through the clouds shining brilliantly on this rugged terrain of my life, I can clearly see that this one precious life of mine is enough.

This day will end and it will be like all others, except I will be different. I will blow a kiss to the past and turn to the future. A new job awaits me this next week, one that will challenge me more than I am even aware of. I will not run down the mountain because I value the way of slow, small, and sustainable progress now. I will hold the hands of my husband and children knowing that we are in this together, forever connected by our love. I will speak less, listen more, and ask for eyes to see the unseen. My search will be for the mystical moments where I can only look to God as the creator of and be thankful that I am included in the unfolding.

40, I welcome you as a friend and companion. You will no doubt change me but I will use my lungs to breathe you in and rest in your wisdom. I have what I need of that I am sure. I am becoming and that is the whole point.

 

One thought on “40

    Misty @ Rainydayinmay said:
    February 17, 2020 at 1:04 pm

    This is a beautiful post… I too believed God would come back in 2000. I think it was the fundamentalist upbringing that came on the tale end of the satanic panic/fear enriched era of the church. The LaHaye books were selling like CRAZY, so I know we were NOT alone. (plus churches were LITERALLY preaching about these books, and having special events around them. When I look back I have so many questions about the propriety of that…)
    When I was around 20/21, my husband worked nights and he would commute with a coworker. Sometimes I would spend those nights with the coworker’s wife. We were crafting items to sell at Farmer’s markets. Our schedules revolved around our husband’s work schedules, so it made sense. Anyway, she was older and had children she “homeschooled.” (I am not dissing homeschooling, she honestly did not believe educating her kids was worth her time, and Idaho had NO requirements.) Anyway… One day her 11 year old daughter came in and said something like “momma, do you think I’ll be pretty when I grow up? Will I marry a handsome man?” And she looked at her daughter, tucked her hair behind her ear and gently said “sweetheart, you are very pretty now. You know that you aren’t going to grow up because the Lord is coming back soon. You’ll never be an adult, and you’ll never get married, but that’s ok because we will be with
    Jesus.” Her daughter cried and said “I know, but just in case, would I?” and she reassured her that “there are no just in cases”… I mean… It CHILLED me. This would have been around 1997. The thing is, I know she wasn’t alone.
    As I look at this uprising of (mostly women) who have come to question the fundamental ways they were raised and the things they were taught “as gospel” that aren’t, I think of this… This girl is an adult now. An adult around 30.
    All of this had ZERO to do with your post really… Except to say that this post is so beautiful and it gives me a sliver of hope among all of the dark, heartache rich stories I hear from women who believed similar things… May we all stand atop a mountain and find the courage to feel similar gratitudes and contentment…

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