Raspberry Iced M

I turned 39 twelve days ago.

Also known as a Friday. The day my son goes to his dad’s. The last day of my work week. The last day I spend alone before my husband finishes his own work week.

I was born on a Friday, too. On a full moon. And since this birthday is the last one of my 30s, it feels like an interesting closing of a circle.

In my 39 years, I have learned plenty of things…the hard way.

Some through joy.
Some through consequences.
Some through prayer.
Some through grief.

I am sure I’ll spend the rest of my life learning.

But these are 39 lessons I don’t want to forget:

1. Healing is slower than I anticipated, but faster than it feels.
2. Feelings are real, but they are not always true.
3. Being chosen is not the same as being loved.
4. Peace is worth more than being right.
5. The hardest person I will ever forgive is myself.
6. In order for integrity to mean something, it has to – by default – cost something.
7. People don’t always see your growth. Grow anyway.
8. Apologies matter. Changed behavior matters more.
9. Boundaries are not punishments. They’re directions.
10. Sometimes “no” is God’s protection.
11. You are capable of surviving things you once thought would destroy you.
12. Your nervous system deserves kindness too.
13. An argument is only an argument if you show up for it.
14. Not everyone who misunderstands you deserves convincing or proof contrary to their beliefs.
15. Loneliness is painful. Isolation is a choice.
16. Rest and avoidance are not the same thing.
17. Consistency changes a life more than motivation ever will.
18. Ordinary days are extraordinary when you stop overlooking them.
19. Truth spoken with love is almost always better than silence motivated by fear.
20. You don’t have to match someone else’s energy in order to protect your own.
21. Prayer changes me even when it doesn’t change my circumstances.
22. God is the God of the middle, not just the beginning and end.
23. Character is built in repetition.
24. You can be honest without being harsh.
25. Growth usually feels boring while it is happening.
26. Sometimes staying is braver than leaving.
27. Consequences are the most effective teachers.
28. Hope is a discipline, not just an emotion.
29. God wastes nothing, including our sins, including our pain, including what we have lost.
30. The people who truly know you – because they want to – require less explaining.
31. There is freedom in saying, “I don’t know.”
32. Your worth is not determined by your worst decision, and it is not up for debate, nor should it be defined by the opinions of others.
33. Small, kept promises become self-respect.
34. Listening is one of the purest forms of love.
35. The woman I am becoming is worth the uncomfortable process.
36. There is strength in asking for help.
37. The fruit God grows is usually underground before it’s visible.
38. Actually changing takes longer than appearing changed.
39. God has been more faithful than I’ve recognized.

I’m not an expert.

I’m a student.

I’ve learned that life asks better questions than it gives answers, that grace and accountability belong together, that peace is cultivated, that faith is practiced, and that healing isn’t measured by the absence of scars, but by what those scars no longer control.

If there’s one lesson I hope I carry into my 40th year, it’s that I don’t have to become someone extraordinary. I just want to become someone who loves God well, loves people well, tells the truth, keeps her word, and leaves every place a little kinder than she found it.

If I can do that, 39 will have been a very good teacher.

Every birthday requires “one to grow on,” and if I could carry one more lesson into year #40, it would be: I spent years trying to be enough for everyone else. I’m finally learning to become someone I can respect.

A year ago, the question with which I became preoccupied was, “How do I get people to choose me?” And now, I’m asking, “How do I become a woman of integrity?” That doesn’t guarantee easier circumstances, but it does place my focus on something I can actually control – one, ordinary day at a time.