So, 36. The oldest I’ve ever been (and the youngest I’ll ever be). I don’t mind getting a year older. But I gotta be honest with you, I’m really gonna miss 35. It was a really good year. The best in a while.
Not sure what changed a year ago today. But I distinctly remember waking up feeling different.
There was an unfamiliar weight on my heart. Not the usual weight of stress, pressure or burden. But a weight of…significance, something of great value. There was a sudden awareness of the immeasurable value of time. Precious, fleeting time. We talk about buying time, saving time, making time. But you can’t really do any of those. Regardless of how I spent it, time was passing right through my fingers every second. And I became desperate to not waste it.
And I had been wasting it. Waiting.
Waiting for an opportunity to come along.
Waiting for other people to change.
Waiting to be seen, recognized, appreciated.
Waiting to be asked, invited, wanted.
Waiting until I was more confident, brave, secure.
Waiting until I had more time. (Oh, the irony.)
Waiting until I had more money.
Waiting until I was in better shape.
Waiting until I was totally healed, healthy.
I was waiting for just the right moment, while moment after priceless moment ticked away.
It hit me that all I have is right now. (Oh, look. That now just became then. And here’s a new now. Whoops, that one’s gone too. Here comes another…)
All I know is when I woke up that morning, I felt like God had just shocked me with a defibrillator. NOW, He said. Right now.
The Spirit wind stirred my heart and, just for something different, I decided to hoist my sail and see where He took me.
I got a new job, quickly and unexpectedly. I took a shot in the dark at a gig that had the potential to fit me like my favorite jeans, and it happened. Right at one year in now. It’s awesome.
We bought a house. Maybe not a dream house by anyone else’s standards, but it’s perfect for us. No more landlords. No more uncertainty or instability. Our kids have a home. (With a POOL, no less.)
I broke some negative patterns. Instead of continuing to blame others for my unhappiness, I took responsibility for my part and made some personal adjustments that ended up changing the entire situation, in several arenas.
I started a blog. God made me to write, so I just started writing. Not the Great American Novel. No New York Times Best Seller. Just a blog of faith, family and freak outs.
I tried out this idea of actually asking for what I want/need, instead of expecting people to read my mind and being disappointed when they don’t. Scary, but surprisingly effective.
After 14 years, I finally used my fine china and crystal for the first time ever. No more waiting for special occasions or being afraid of breaking things.
God painfully removed the blinders from my eyes. I had been intentionally not looking at hard things in my life, and in the world in general. And now, for better or worse, I see everything pretty clearly, which usually triggers some kind of action.
I did a 5k. Notice I didn’t say I RAN a 5k. There was very little running. There was just surviving. But I did it. Got the T-shirt to prove it.
I let God get at a couple of significant wounds I had been carefully guarding. The process stung, but there was healing. Healing that I never thought possible.
I had my first speaking engagement. A church actually invited me to speak and paid me for it. And I spoke a message I really believe in. (I totally thought I was doing it for free. That was a fun surprise.)
I accepted God’s forgiveness for a couple of excruciating old sins. I thought carrying them around forever was doing penance and protecting myself from future mistakes. But now they’re gone. And I don’t miss them.
I chunked my Bucket List. Who cares what I want to do before I kick the bucket? What does GOD want me to do before I kick the bucket?
I reinvested in my church. After leaving a staff position, it’s always awkward trying to find your place as a member of the congregation. But I’m getting there.
I started breaking my own rules. I hate when other people put me in a box. I didn’t realize I had been doing it to myself. All the I-will-nevers got kicked to the curb. And good riddance.
The game changed during 35. A number of areas of self-imposed captivity were set free. No idea why it took so damn long. Maybe God was trying to make up for the crows feet and gray hairs that multiplied significantly that year.
Scripture is full of warnings and pep talks that this life is short, fleeting, like a vapor. But Satan, the master distractor, bogs us down with the false impression that the routines we find ourselves in will just go on forever. Another day, another dollar. Just more of the daily grind.
But in light of eternity, our time here is about as long as a blink. I could have another 40 years, another 40 days or another 40 minutes. God doesn’t want us to live in fear. But He wants us to be purposeful, intentional and get on with the business of doing what He put us here to do.
Since I am apparently a grownup now and am married to a grownup (Brad’s approaching 42, y’all. I mean, that’s really old), I have to have grownup conversations. Wills, life insurance, investments, plans for retirement, etc. Brad recently had some minor surgery, which didn’t faze me too much until I sat next to his hospital bed pre-surgery filling out the medical surrogate form, discussing his living will and at one point somebody mentioned a DNR. And thanks to Grey’s Anatomy, I knew what that was. Did somebody just say DNR? Are you kidding me? I’m actually having this conversation. This is real. It was a very sobering look at the fragility of life.
One time I told Brad which songs I wanted played/sung at my funeral: Victory in Jesus (Ross King version), Lay Me Down (Andrew Peterson), That Where I Am (Rich Mullins) and I’ll Fly Away (Jars of Clay version). He did not enjoy that discussion and would not answer when I asked him what songs he wanted at his funeral. (So I threated him with John Lennon’s Imagine. It was hilarious.) “Are you planning on this happening any time soon?” he asked, looking mildly concerned and annoyed. “Well, of course I’m not PLANNING on it. But you never know.” Yeah, he really doesn’t like it when I talk like that.
It’s not that I’m obsessed with death. I’m actually slightly obsessed with LIFE. This is it, you guys. This is not a dress rehearsal. There’s no more waiting for whatever. We’re there. It’s now. Today’s the freakin’ day. As one of my work buddies says, “This diem isn’t going to carpe itself!”
So I have no idea what to expect from 36. Will it bring loss, tragedy, heartbreak? Will it bring more growth, direction, opportunity? Probably a mix of both. But God, if You’re taking suggestions, I’d like to request more good than bad, please. (No, it’s okay. He thinks I’m funny.)
It’s not my job to know what’s coming. My job is to focus on God’s Bucket List for me and keep checking off those items. As beloved young blogger Kara Tippetts said before dying of cancer this past March, “We’re all dying. It’s just that I know it.”
Got issues? Health problems? A dead-end job? No job? A difficult marriage? No marriage? Difficult kids? No kids? Shame? Guilt? A shady past? Brokenness? Addictions?
I got news for you: None of those are excuses. You are not disqualified (even if you want to be). You are not benched until you get your act together. Get in the game. Heal as you go.
There are pastors, therapists, doctors, meds and support groups. And most importantly, there’s Jesus. There’s the cross. There’s mercy, forgiveness and unconditional love. Stand up, take a long, deep breath of the good news, and get moving.
We’ve got work to do.
