I’m not one to stress about getting older. In fact, most of the time I welcome it. I’m one of the rare ones who looks forward to turning 30. My whole life I have looked much younger than my age, and I can’t wait to see the look on faces of people who say, “You’re 30?!” I will respond with, “Why yes, I am a capable and mature 30 year old. Now take me seriously.”
But this year, I’m dreading my birthday. When I turned 20, I put a timeline on my future. Who does that? Apparently I do. The year I turned 28 would be a defining time in my life. I would be settled down; I would be climbing the corporate ladder; I would take steps necessary to become a mom. I would be a grown-up.
I turn 28 next week. A week from today. That number is glaring me in the face. I’ve been a monster to be around. Ask Todd. I feel overwhelmed, pressured, and not at all where I thought I would be at 28. I know that Todd and I have accomplished so much before this milestone year (buying our first house, getting grown-up jobs, etc.) But lately I’ve been questioning everything. Do I love my job? Is this what I want to do for 10 more years? 5 years? 6 more months? I don’t know. Am I ready to be a mom? I think so, but I’m terrified. It may take immaculate conception at this point. This birthday really snuck up on me and it feels like it’s me against my age.
I know it’s unhealthy to put timelines on my life – I know God’s timing is not my own (thankfully!) and that everything will fall into place when it’s supposed to. I do feel a natural shift in my desires and goals and I know God will carry me through. I just wish as a teenager I would have put 29, 30 or 31 as my defining year. But in the end, the things I fear are inevitable. I am going to get older. My priorities are going to change. And I’m going to be okay.
With age comes wisdom, right?