Thirty is the New Twenty

On a partly cloudy Sunday in December, I turned the ripe old age of 30.  I had sensed the looming number stalking from the shadows for quite some time, but it still managed to sneak up on me and jump out with a mocking BOO!  I grew four new crows feet that morning, I'm certain of it!  I looked in the mirror with haggard hound dog eyes after yet another sleepless night with all three kids making an appearance.  One after another, the lines appeared, almost as if by magic, spider-webbing out from the corner of my eyes, taking up permanent residence as new fixtures to my weary face.  I spread the skin of my cheekbones towards my ears with the palms of my hand, erasing the offensive wrinkles and fiercely willing back my youthful twenties.

As I dropped my hands with a huff of defeat, a glint from my eyes caught my attention and riveted my stare on my reflection a bit longer.  With a sudden rise of innate competition, I raised my chin in defiance and quipped aloud, "Thirty is the new twenty anyway!"

I walked with purpose into the kitchen, placed my hands defiantly on my hips and loudly stated, "Burkie! I still haven't written a book!"

Burke paused, fork full of dripping pancake halfway to his mouth, surely wondering if this was a trap and asked,  "Were you supposed to have one written?"

Impatiently I launched into an explanation, "Burkie, I am thirty years old today and I STILL haven't written a book.  I have wanted to write a book since I was ten years old.  That means I have tabled this dream for twenty years!  TWENTY years Burkie!"  I gestured wildly to the passing years flying before my face.  "And this is the year I'm finally going to do it."

Burke nodded thoughtfully, gulped down a sticky bite and responded, "So write."

I smiled and stated with confidence, "I will."

I decided that morning there would be no more excuses.  I had several stories brewing in my head; a historical fiction based on my great great great grandmother's adventurous life, a World War II war saga based on Grandma GG's life, but the story that felt most important to me at the time swirled around the topic that had become my well acquainted friend over the past year: sorrow.  Sorrow that takes our breathe away and changes the landscape of our hearts.  Sorrow that burns and builds.  Sorrow, my own and others.  I would start that very day, putting my ideas down on paper, outlining the purpose, setting up interviews for the women who could contribute their stories of heartache as the catalyst for faith and doubt.

But writing wasn't the only goal I wanted to tackle head on.  Turning thirty gave me the little umph I needed to tackle life again with intention and vigor.  It gave me the extra chip on my shoulder to prove I could indeed make my thirties just as productive and meaningful as my twenties.  I also set goals for motherhood, physical fitness, family travel, activities, work and worship meant to shape 2018 into the "best year of my life".  

And as we wrap up month 6 of 2018, it is shaping up to be just that!  Goodbye twenties, heeeeelllloooo thirties!