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The kids are jumping on the trampoline. I watch them through the kitchen window while I clean up the breakfast dishes. It’s lunchtime now, but the kids haven’t noticed, so I dare not say a thing.
I am so grateful for the sunshine and the warmth, that my kids can be outside, laughing, playing, crying, fighting, growing. What makes me almost as happy as the sound of my children’s laughter, is the sound of silence in the house.
Yes, silence does have a sound. Ask any parent. It’s a sound that causes this warm, tingly excitement at the same time as this weighted-blanket rest sensation. It’s divine.
Baby Judah is on the floor in the living room that branches off the kitchen, sucking on his fingers (that stubborn tooth still has not made a full appearance). Every now and then he sqwaks, giggles to himself and rolls, wriggles, and squirms his way to a new spot on the floor. Mostly, he just makes soft observational noises, which are perfectly comforting in the silence.
This is 31. Oh yeah, it’s my birthday today. Just a normal Wednesday with a rare lapse in noise.
I feel like I should have something profound to say. Some life hack or sage counsel. Didn’t our parents seem so much older and wiser in their 30’s? I feel like a 20 year old left alone with an irresponsible parent’s 5 children. What was she thinking leaving me with all of this, and when is she coming back? Seriously?! This house will definitely not be in order when she returns.
Somebody’s banging on the back door. I’ll ignore it, because it’s most likely Nelly (the 2, almost 3, year old). She’ll get distracted soon enough, which will buy me a few more quiet minutes.
My thirties have not come to me as expected. I did not struggle to turn 30. In fact, I think I welcomed 30, and the year to follow has taught me more than my entire 29 years prior. 30 taught me the purpose behind the 29 years. They were the training ground. 30 brought me the unexpected, the hurricane that exposed the foundation, the war like I’d never known before. It stripped me bare and showed me what I was made of.
So here I stand, at 31, bare. Raw. No longer striving to achieve the miraculous by faith, but fighting tooth and nail to stay in it. I finally know what’s mine to have, and will not part with it easily. This is 31. White knuckled, zoned in, locked on, but finding the strength to let go a little more with each passing moment. I have discovered that it is not my strength that ushers me into victory, but God’s strength resting on me. His grace.
Like a child clinging to a parent for fear that if they part they will never be reunited, I’m learning that it’s ok to loosen my grip on the promises of the Lord. They are mine, and like God Himself, they aren’t waiting for me to look away so they can take off without me throwing a temper tantrum
Grace has never been so tangible before. Here I sit, not breathing, but by grace, and I understand how interwoven it is with my own spirit. It is not my will but His will within me. His words spoken over me long ago, knit together to form the skeleton that holds me upright in this season of physical and mental exhaustion.
31 is teaching me to put some meat back on these bones. I am learning to feast on the goodness of God. The inflammation, the toxicity, the excess, the soul-fat is gone. I am in a rebuild. There isn’t much to say in this season of essentialism. I hunt for the words, but they all sound excessive, unnecessary, overdramatic, or void of true value. Like hanging drapes in the garage.
I am learning that I do not have to feel strong to be strong. I am experiencing what it is to be bolstered up by the power of God’s spirit in me.
I don’t know where you are today, but take it from me, He’s got you. I know how it feels to be unable to stand in your own strength, to lose hope, to fear failing because you may never find your way back. God’s arms are big, his grace is strong, and His love is the net that holds you when all of your reserves give out. He is our ALL in ALL, our everything.
There is no fear in love with Him. There is freedom to believe for the impossible, and even see it come to pass. There is the courage to hope, the strength to stand, and the will to dream of a future in His perfect love.
Here I am, Thirties, and I’m ready for my best days yet. I might look a little shaky, but I will not be shaken, for the Rock Himself is with me, in me, and for me. 31 will see me standing firm upon His words, unmoved by any others.
And when I feel like I can’t find the words, I will speak God’s words only. They have kept me, sustained me, and made me all that I am today.
31 is going to be a good year. I may not have all the words right now, but God does.
His words are the only ones I need.
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