Thirty Two Journeys
I've been reading a lot of original and shared posts about 2016 being a terrible year and people feeling accosted by the year. 2016 was an eventful year for sure---when looking on a global, national, and spiritual scale. But to say it was the worst personally, I just can't. I can't look back be ungrateful or sad about what this year has been. Without all of the tragedy, I cannot appreciate the beauty. I cannot appreciate the growth in society or in myself without tragedy. I know this maybe sound odd, but 2016 was a year of growth. It was a year where I learned to choose me, and not in a selfish manner.
In 2016, at the age of 31...
...I ended a relationship and said to my friends "I feel like I just said no to getting married and having children." But, what I said no to was settling. What I said no to was changing everything to fit into another's picture. and I said yes to something more.
...I deleted all online dating sites.
...I started grad school.
...I started Crossfit. And I crave the soreness.
...I gained a circle of friends with whom I've become close.
...I stopped caring so much and started living more.
...I got my Passport.
...I got stamps in my Passport.
...I became more content with my marital and motherhood status.
...I won two teacher awards and daily I feel less deserving of such.
...I buried my second student 11 months after burying the first.
...I cried a lot.
...I laughed more.
...I became stronger.
...I learned about loss.
...I cultivated relationships.
I turned 32 this week. It was the first birthday where I had a good bit of alone time. I read my book—the 3rd in 10 days—spent time with family and I went to the gym.
Yes, I went to the gym on my birthday, which was also a first and it felt great.
But, it wouldn't be completely honest post if I didn't tell you about the thoughts on the battlefield of this birthday:
“32---8 years from 40” and the devil doesn't play fair because words like "pre-menopausal" and "barren" resonate with each tick of the clock. Plus, it doesn’t help that at this point, people feel the need to tell me that I'm not getting any younger and that maybe I am too picky. And all I can do is smile at them. Or make some joke about myself. Because if only they knew my heart and how far we have come on this journey, then they might just see more than some old maid.
As I look back on 31 and 2016 as a whole, I'm thankful.
I'm thankful for every empty seat. I'm thankful for those empty seats at the dinner table. It's been a long time coming to be able to say that. It's among the long list of things I find myself thankful for these days.
There are two empty seats at my mom's dinner table for Sunday dinners, but also for those holiday dinners. Often times, I would find myself ignoring them or being bitter or sad or whatever---just add the emotion because I felt it.
Just this past holiday season, even after a year or more being content for this season, I completely had an unexpected meltdown of ugly crying snubs because I was decorating my tree alone. I wasn't making traditions with my own family. There were no giddy giggles when the lights lit up the room. There were no stories to be shared as the ornaments were hung. The only stories were mine. And only mine. And the only giggles were found in the wings of hope.
But, I look at the two empty chairs today and I see the embodiment of hope. The embodiment of faith. I see the miracle of growth spiritually and emotionally. I see grace. I see mercy. I see His palm. I see life.
While this may be more of an entry that should be written in some journal that sits by my bed, here it is in all of its reflective and transparent glory.
So, here’s to 32---oh and short hair, too!
Until Next Time Dearies!
Comments