I’ve always written birthday letters to the kids, so when a priest friend of ours suggested I write myself one last year, I did.
And I loved it.
So here we go again…
With every passing year, I’m more grateful for all the little moments. Perhaps it’s because the preciousness of life becomes more acute and I become more aware. Either way, through all the good and the bad, I sought gratitude.
We have a sign in our office that reads: “A grateful heart silences a complaining voice.” I’d like to tell you I always do that, but let’s be real. I’m a sassy southerner and sometimes the words come out before I can reel them back in. Let’s just say I’m learning how to apologize and curb my tongue.
This week marks a milestone I never, ever thought I’d achieve. For two years I’ve been working out 4-5 times a week. Yes, there are more muscles and the clothes fit a little better, but I am stronger. It’s so great and it reminds me that it’s never too late to start taking care of yourself. My goal for this year? Eat better. Man, y’all, I really stink at eating the fruits and vegetables. Time to change that.
This fall, our oldest will be a senior in high school and our youngest will be in pre-K – here we go again! I still can’t quite wrap my brain around all that. My prayer is that I will relish it, instead of cry it all away. I want to see the joy in all the lasts and get excited about a whole new set of firsts.
After my grandfather died last year, I realized what a big piece of my heart went with him. I really, really miss the phone calls we used to share and his wise words. He reminded me to start living, to start acting on my goals and to quit sitting around waiting to make decisions. So, Papa, 2018 is for you. I hope I make you proud.
As women, I think we have a hard time admitting how old we are, or how much the aging process really scares us. Perhaps it’s because I am a birthday’s biggest fan, but can I challenge you with this? Celebrate the age you are, with no apologies. I’m 44 and not ashamed to admit it. That means God has given me 44 chances to grow closer to Him and to love the people I adore another year. I’d say that’s pretty awesome. I was 21 once and it was great, but I have to say 44 is pretty dang good, too.
43 wasn’t perfect. But, we celebrated a lot of birthdays, saw a lot of Texas, ate a lot of BBQ (post coming!!), took a lot of pictures and did a lot of soul-searching and recalibrating in the parenting and marriage departments. My word this year was “possibility.” And, today, I see so much of it ahead. Here’s to 44, y’all.
Drink a Dr Pepper for me!