Dear Forty,

I’m a week away from meeting you face to face.  You have been messing with me for the last six months; maybe this entire past year, and I’m ready to finally just face you and be done with it. Get it over with.

  

What IS this power you hold, this voice in my head, reminding me of all the things I have NOT accomplished.  You are just a number!  Not even a huge one!  But you won’t shut up, shaming me for what I’m not or what I haven’t done.

No, I haven’t been to Paris, roaming the streets with a journal, “finding myself” like Audrey Hepburn in “Sabrina”.  It’s probably a little late for that; if I haven’t found myself by now, I may be destined to be lost forever.

I haven’t written a book; I don’t even blog regularly.

Sigh. 

I haven’t eaten gelato in Italy, or hiked in the Alps, or sang like Maria in Austria.  I haven’t backpacked across Europe.   I’m not Mother Theresa or Princess Diana or even a realistic combination of them both.

      You tell me I have done nothing of importance or notice. 

     
      And I believe you.


          For SO LONG, I have believed you.  Tossing and turning at night, feeling like I somehow missed my purpose; my calling.  Feeling like I missed my window.  Like youth and beauty and hope were only for people under forty, although I have many friends who have passed forty and defy that lie.  Believing that if I haven’t done it by now, I will never do it.


      But today, a week away from meeting you, I’m putting on my fight face and we are going to face the truth. 


Here are some things I HAVE done:

         
      I have kayaked next to a seal in the Puget Sound and down rivers in Hawaii.

      I have flown over the island of Kaui in a helicopter.  It was like riding in a bubble and I laughed like a fool the entire time.  It was awesome.

          
      I have gone swimming under a waterfall and had fish tickle my arms while snorkeling.

           
      I have danced in an orchard, in the headlights of a car, on the dancefloor with Pluto, on a beach and in my living room.

         
      I have sung jazz in a bar with a live band and sang back up, briefly, with James Taylor.  My voice has blended with voices far superior to mine in glorious harmony and I have led people in worship to the very throne of God.  I can't believe that privilege was mine for a while.

          
      I voiced commercials.  Just a couple, but it was so fun!

     
     I guest-blogged!  While my own blog is sporadic, to say the least, I guest blogged and wrote a small piece for a newsletter.  Dare we call that pseudo-published?


          I have hugged Mickey Mouse so many times I’m sure Minnie is more than a little jealous; I got to take my kids to Disney.  Pure magic.  I laughed with my kiddos on the Go-Coaster over and over, had a tea party in Minnie Mouse’s house and told Darth Vadar that he was very tall.


          I have stayed married.  After watching so many friends stop being married, this is worth mentioning.  Seventeen years, and he still makes me laugh.  Seventeen years, and I still believe him when he says he loves me.


          I have two amazing girls.  Bringing them into this world was such a holy moment and raising them is a sacred vocation.  I forget this in the mundane of emptying the dishwasher, cleaning bathrooms and doing laundry (which is never done!!), but this is the season I have surrendered myself to; this is the season I chose.  I never regret it.  Having the space to watercolor, dance, read, hold baby crabs at the beach, build sandcastles and stories and watch them grow, listen to them laugh and watch them love…this I HAVE done.  Yes, it is a challenge not to lose myself in this vocation, but I have found such joy and purpose here.  In their smiles and in their little voices quoting “Jabberwocky” and the Psalms.  Oh, forty.  Nothing tops this.  

Not even Paris.


And this is something I DID always want to do.  Two boxes I wanted to check for as long as I can remember:  be a wife, be a mom.  

I’ve done it. 


          I have taught my kids to read!  And to discover the joy of history and music and books and Shakespeare and ballet.  And Jesus- even more important than reading, I have taught my kids about Jesus and His love for them and the people around them.  We ask questions and pray and laugh at the disciples for their laugh of faith while celebrating that Jesus still loved them and had patience with them, so maybe we can have patience with each other.


          I have owned my own business and did well in my chosen profession while I was in it.  I loved my clients and they loved me.  I loved hearing their stories and learning what they were about.  I loved giving them a space to be heard, cherished and cared for.

I have stayed strong and active.  I love yoga and Zumba and dancing. I do this with no medicine. After being diagnosed with fibromyalgia at nineteen, this belongs on my list of accomplishments.                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                     In your face, forty.

I have moved.  And moved.  And moved, again.  This one, well, this one hurts.  It’s a tender place.  This one is hard.  Something I didn’t want to be part of my story, like my parent’s divorce or post-partum depression. But it IS part of my story and I have done it.  Leaving friends and homes and dreams and plans behind.  I have met new people and discovered new places that feed my soul like Manito in Spokane, the beach here at home, my in-laws house in Yakima, and the Shakespeare Festival in Boise.  I have immersed myself in new libraries, new parks, new worship teams and new seasons.  This last move, I just didn’t quite have the energy for so much “new-ness”.  But God has been gracious. Always.  I have a family member here that I love like a sister.  An old high school friend and his family to share holiday meals with.  Neighbors that I love; neighbors with so many kids that I feel like our cul-de-sac is something from a book!  New friends from the Y, of all places! God surprising me with His love in unexpected places.  I’m so grateful.

I have seen God provide for a lot of my wants and all my needs.  I have been on the receiving end of both the best and the worstof the church community.  I have watched Him say yes to so many prayers…and no to others.  I have learned what raw trust and faith look like.  I have questioned God and been angry at God; I have yelled at Him and sung songs of love to Him; I have believed Him and doubted Him, sometimes in the same day.  I have learned that the more I come to know Him, the more there is to know.  I have loved well and loved poorly.  I have asked for so much forgiveness from the people I love.

    

I know there is more to come.  More life to live, more songs to sing and words to write and people to love.  More tears to cry, more moments of failure and more heartbreak.  More hope.                                                                                                   

I’m not even halfway done, unless something unexpected happens.  Which is always a possibility.  Not to be morbid, but each day is a gift (even the hard ones) and I don’t know when this gift will stop arriving.  This is living, though.  To keep opening the gift with expectancy and gratefulness.  To feel and hurt and love.  To stay open to it, all of it.  To embrace the joy and the pain; the laughter and the tears; the happy and the hard.  To hope and believe that my story has meaning.

  

Forty, do you see?  I HAVE done things.  Some not so important and some very important.

I haven’t done ALL the things, but that’s ok.  In the words of “Out of the Grey”: “So, we haven’t been to Paris and found the café of our dreams, but our table holds a whole world of memories.  We may never get to Venice and stroll the streets of Rome, but we built our worlds together and we got the best of both.”

And, I’m not done.

No.

Not yet.                                                                                                                                                                    I will see YOU in a week.