the one where I turn thirty

When I was 23 or 24, I found this quote on the then-new Pinterest, "You only get ten years to be in your twenties." At first, I loved this graphic...so much so that I made it my desktop background for awhiiile. After all, my time as a twenty-something was fleeting and those words served as a reminder that I should take advantage of every moment and every opportunity afforded to a young, non-wrinkly, zero gray-haired, but completely in debt, young woman! Carpe Diem and all that jazz! But as the months and years went on - these words began to haunt me. Ominous, intimidating, and flat-out scary - these words might as well have been followed by a "DUN, DUN, DUNNNN." This quote led to anxiety-laden thoughts: "What if I'm not maximizing my time in this decade?! What if I don't travel as much/get in as good of shape/accomplish as much/have as much/become as much like..." -- the list goes on and on. And so I felt defeated by the very words meant to keep me inspired. Eventually, off the desktop the quote went (praise hands) - but they remained etched in the back of my mind.

Today, as I spent my last day in my twenties, I couldn't help but feel a little off. Between Tim McGraw's "My Next Thirty Years" blaring in my mind's ear (is that a thing?) and that freaky quote from 2012 -- I was feeling a tad introspective. After all, I didn't quite accomplish all the things I thought I would when I started this decade: I am not the editor-in-chief for Lucky or Elle magazines (shocker, right?), I don't own a house (much less a vacation home), I don't live near my family OR in New York City, I don't have lots of designer clothes in my closet, I don't have a million stamps in my passport, I'm n in the best shape of my life  *she says while eating warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk*, I haven't written a book (in fact, I can barely blog consistently), I don't have as many kids as I thought I would by now, and I am very, very tired. Virtually nothing in my life looks quite like I thought it would when I turned 20! Allow me to first say: thank goodness. Clearly, my 20-year-old self was slightly consumed with the wrong things  in life! And although I'm extremely grateful that some of those expectations didn't come to pass (ahem most of them), there was a piece of me that felt a little worried that I didn't live my last 10 years to their fullest potential. Like what if I didn't live my best, most exciting, 20-something-year-old-life?! Please tell me I'm not the only one who has had this kind of existential age crisis?!

But as I read through Ecclesiastes today (nothing says quarter/mid/whatever-life crisis quite like Ecclesiastes, am I right), I was reminded that my life and my 20s aren't measured by my accomplishments. The quality of these years is not measured by my achievements, workplace accolades, possessions, dress size, followers on Instagram, cool trips or experiences, bank account balance, or even -- gasp -- my relationships. My years are measured by one thing and one thing only - my Maker. And according to him, well, if I'm still making every effort to become like his Son, I'm doing alright! I can't even begin to tell you how liberating that thought is for me!

When people live to be very old, let them rejoice in every day of life. But let them also remember there will be many dark days. Everything still to come is meaningless. Young people, it’s wonderful to be young! Enjoy every minute of it. Do everything you want to do; take it all in. But remember that you must give an account to God for everything you do. So refuse to worry, and keep your body healthy. But remember that youth, with a whole life before you, is meaningless. Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, “Life is not pleasant anymore.”

- Ecclesiastes 11:8-12:1 NLT

Meaningless, meaningless. Without God, it's all meaningless - gotta love the bluntest book of the Bible :) So ultimately, I'm positive that my thirties will be different than what I expect and probably filled with a lot more spit-up and a lot less "glamour" than my twenties...and that I'll probably stay tired for the foreseeable future (update: Rosie was teething all night so yeah - sleep and glamour are officially out. the. window. But sweet baby snuggles are IN!). Cheers to a decade of letting go, remembering the Creator first, sleeping the exact-same-not-nearly-enough amount, and attempting to eat more salads and a few less french fries.

It's time to check on my sweet, sleeping daughter and convince J to watch that episode of Friends where Rachel turns 30 with me. Thanks for joining me as I've attempted to make sense of my twenties. Can't wait to keep keeping it uncomfortably real with you all in my thirties. Is there any other way?! Stay young, y'all!

xoxo

A+J

the one with the waiting

I hate waiting.

I mean, I HATE it. 

I hate waiting the two minutes for my coffee to brew and get into my cup. 

I hate waiting in lines at the grocery store. 

I hate waiting in traffic. 

I hate waiting for things I want.

I hate waiting for a baby.

Most people who read my blog probably know my big (ahem, skinny) sister. She's the real writer in the family - she effortlessly combines depth, story-telling, advice, and humor in the best kind of way. You also may know that she has four {beautiful, amazing, perfect} children -- and that before there were four, there was infertility. I watched my sister pray, fast, weep, persevere and everything in between during those trying years. 

I always feared that her struggle would become mine when I was ready to try for children. And here I am, relating in my own younger-sister kind of way. I haven't been trying for a really long time but I haven't been trying for a short time either. I'm not going to say exactly how long it's been because I'm sure there are people that have waited for less time / more time than I have who can relate to what I'm experiencing.

I'm consumed with waiting.

It's all I can think about right now. I want to say otherwise. I want to say that I'm fine, that I'm faithful, that I'm at peace, that I'm full of trust, joy, and all those qualities our Lord so perfectly embodies. But I don't feel that way right now. I feel far from that. I know that anxiety makes getting pregnant harder. But how on earth am I supposed to not be anxious right now? I know that this isn't a form of punishment and that I'm young and that Sarah had a baby when she was verging on...dead...but I was kind of hoping for something less difficult, less wrinkly.

I want to just bask in all that I do have - and I have SO much. I feel humbled by all that God's given me and I feel angry at myself for being consumed with waiting when God has done nothing but bestow mercy, blessing, grace, and love in my life. Who am I to question God's timing or God's plan? He's perfect and prayerfully, one day, with a baby in my arms, I'll look back and sigh all motherly and wise and say, "Wow, God's timing was perfect and so much better than mine."

But that's not what I feel right now.

When I was 14, I proclaimed Jesus as my Lord and was baptized into his name. As a young teenager, I remember making him Lord of my doubts, my selfishness, my young-teen emotions. And I meant it. I surrendered and I gave him control of my hormone-ridden life. But really, at 14, I was making a decision to keep making Jesus Lord. At every age, at every stage. I re-made that decision at 15 when my parents moved me to a different state, a different high school, a different culture, a different church; again at 16 when a teenage boy broke my heart and I felt ugly and unlikeable; again in my early twenties when I was in college, dealing with a painful breakup, single and vowing to stay faithful even if marriage wasn't in the cards for me; again in Georgia, again in New York, and here I am again, vowing once more to make Jesus Lord of this circumstance. I'm reminded that I made Jesus Lord of my life at 14 - but really, I'm called to re-make that decision daily. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's difficult. But I find that the real test for me is fairly consistent - will Jesus be Lord of the waiting? Will Jesus remain my Lord, the director of my life, the controller of my decisions while I wait between the mountain-tops, the victories, the blessings?

I answered yes at 14, I'm answering yes at 27, and I promise to keep answering yes.

At every age, at every stage:
Jesus is Lord.