Wednesday, June 5

When you are thirty-seven.

When you are thirty-seven, you often wonder about this space on the internet and if it is worth it.  You treasure the archives, the moments caught in words to remember forever, but you lack the heart to keep at it as frequently.  You often wonder if your sweet caboose will realize her life simply hasn't been documented well.  You wonder if you will remember it at all one day.

When you are thirty-seven, you make big decisions.  You listen to your husband a little bit more, you laugh a little more frequently, and you cry.  a lot.  You sing aloud to the kiddos, even though you sing horribly.  You allow playdough in the house, and it gets everywhere.  You don't care quite so much anymore.  You know that time slips past, and soon no one will want playdough or lullabies or snuggles at night.  You dole those things out as frequently as your patience allows.  You try to grab all the moments you can, and you hold on tightly.

When you are thirty-seven, you cross over into your daughter's preteen years with a smoothness you never even could imagine.  You talk about things--everything--and you try really hard to always, always, always bring it back to being made in His image and being loved by him.  Sometimes it's hard and sometimes you mess up, but God is bigger than those things.  You have learned how to humbly seek forgiveness from the ones you hurt, and God's grace is amazing and lovely and healing.  You are constantly amazed at how God can take a mess and make something beautiful.  He does it over and over and over for you.

When you are thirty-seven, you spend a lot of time contemplating friendship. You watch your children interact with their friends, and you learn from them.  You have a handful of ladies that you love dearly, that have walked the depths with you, cheered for you, prayed for you, and pointed out truth over lies time and time again.  Because at thirty-seven, you are still stubborn and hard-hearted at times.  You have a lot of growing left to do.  You are thankful for Monday nights and texts and emails and phone calls and every bit of reminding and encouraging that happens day in and day out.  You are grateful for people who are not scared to be messy and honest, and people who help you sort the things that you so often get caught up in.  You are thankful for grace and forgiveness and fun and belonging.  You are thankful to have found your kind of people.

When you are thirty-seven, you know you married the very best man.  He is the calm amid the storm.  He stays anchored when you tend to fly away, and he always pulls you back in.  He does everything--and tries anything.  He reads books to the kiddos and drives carpools and fixes everything he can.  He even tries to fix you but he can't.  You love him even more for that.

When you are thirty-seven, you have the very best birthday.  You spend time with your best friends at the spa.  You eat lunch with your best man.  You take a big risk and cut and color your hair.  You gather almost all of your favorite people and have dinner.  But most importantly, when you are thirty-seven, you receive a bag of letters.  Letters that were written to you, reminding you that God is bigger than anything else going on right now...reminding you that you are loved.  When you are thirty-seven, that is the very best gift.  You read and reread those letters.  Your heart is entirely too full.

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