My friends are all turning 30 this year. Big parties are being planned. Barn dances, and champagne bars and
murder mystery dinner parties. A
ladies trip to Nashville in an RV.
30 is a big deal. Clearly.
For the last 10 years, I’ve dreaded 30. I’ve marched through my twenties with a
slow sense of doom. I like being
the youngest. I hated being 22 and
the oldest one at college. I loved
being 23 and the sprite youngun’ in the workplace. Each year I moved farther and farther away from that
youngest position. Now, I’m older
than most of my sons’ teachers.
I’m older than a lot of the hip, hot celebrities. I was a lot older than most of the
Olympic athletes. I am not,
however, older than my husband.
Recently though, I’ve started to enjoy the impending arrival
of the thirties. Thirty is
bringing with it a sense of peace that everyone talked about accompanying the
big three- O, but I never actually believed. I’m feeling surer of myself than ever before. I’m tired of waiting until I have the
perfect body to wear certain kinds of clothes (example: shorts)… so I’m wearing them now. (The irony of course being that after 2
kids, my body is much further away from perfect than it was 7 years ago. Why didn’t I just wear the shorts
then??) (Additional side note- I do know where to draw the line in regards to
my body type and certain styles of clothes. Currently that line is a romper.)
I feel settled with who I am and how God created me to
be. For example, I feel surer of where
my gifts lie. In my early twenties
I could have never honestly and confidently answered the question “what are you
good at?” I would have given some self-deprecating
joke answer while inwardly burning to name the gifts I dreamed to be worthy of
but not trusting my own assessment of my strengths. In my early twenties I let others tell me what my gifts
were; if they didn’t recognize ability of mine, then it must not exist. Nowadays, on the brink of thirty, I
could tell you what gifts God gave me.
And, equally, I can tell you what gifts he didn’t bestow on me. I’m at peace with both. I can name proudly what I can and can’t
do well without needing someone else’s validation that the former is true and
the latter doesn’t matter in regards to their approval of me.
I’m more at peace with my differences these days as
well. Recently I had a
conversation with a friend that highlighted a way that we were inherently different. In my early twenties that difference
would have made me feel wrong. I
would have felt equal parts depressed that I was created so differently and
pressured to change. In my
mid-twenties I would have felt defensive, deep down still believing that
somehow the problem was mine, that I should start acting differently, but
outwardly trying to cast blame on the other party for her supposed
shortcoming. Today, on the brink
of 30 I just felt peace. Peace
with how God created me and how He created her. I’m happy with how God created me and willing to accommodate
the differences of others in whatever way brings about the most peace.
This self-assuredness has had another beautiful effect. The insecurity of my twenties is
washing away and leaving my heart and brain space to focus on others. Which is a relief because truthfully,
after 29 years, I’m starting to get sick of myself. I no longer spend conversations inwardly worried about how
others perceive me. I don’t
calculate how many cringe worthy statements I made at the party and replay them
in my mind for days afterwards.
Blessedly, the security that thirty is bringing with it has allowed me
to use all that mental space to think about others- a novel idea I know. I can notice how others are behaving at
a party. I’m more in tune with the
body language and emotions of others.
(Of course, this lack of self-focus does have one unfortunate consequence.)
In my twenties I heard of this phenomenon. I heard others talk about the
confidence and sureness that comes with thirty. The freedom that I am starting to experience. It sounded amazing. I desired it. Hoped for it.
At times even strived for it.
But just like weight loss only seems to happen to me when I’m not
trying, this kind of peace only comes with time. It only comes with the turbulent changes and lessons learned
in our twenties. This peace has
been hard earned with every awkward encounter, mistake made, and embarrassing
failure of the past ten years. It
came with realizing my fears and discovering that life went on. It’s not a cheap, fake peace. It’s real and deep and true. If thirty feels this good I can’t wait
for forty…
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