In fifth grade, I had this thing for paper dolls. I played obsessively long games of pretend, you know the type - the princess is rescued by the prince and lives happily ever after. In all these games of pretend, the princess was 16 or so. After all, 20 was just soooo old to find true love.
Last week, I celebrated my 36th birthday. Maybe I should feel old. After all, my natural hair color isn't red anymore and the laugh lines around my eyes don't fade when I stop laughing and rollover doesn't refer to minutes on my phone. But instead, I feel as though I've just begun to live. Don't get me wrong, the 20's were cool - having babies is a blast. But in my thirties, I've found new acceptance with myself. I like the person I'm becoming, and enjoy my marriage.
There are nights when I lie awake and doubt myself. I wonder about my crazy decision to pursue a ministry degree this late in life and try to launch a new career. But most of the time, I am excited that I am comfortable in my own skin, laugh way too hard, and love way too big. I wish that I could pause the clock and spend a few extra minutes enjoying this phase of life.
I am excited to see what surprises, challenges, and blessings this year will hold. Happy Birthday to Me!