Friday is a big day around here.
It’s the day I turn 40. As in, forty.
I really don’t dread it. If you had asked me at 23, the year we moved to Kentucky, 40-year-olds were much more settled, much more grown up. Forty-year-olds had accomplished. They were sure and steady.
I’m not really sure I am any of those things, but I do know that I feel much more comfortable in my own skin than I did at 23. I speak up for myself more, but I also try to give more grace, assume the best, and strive for peace.
After cancer last year, every birthday is something to celebrate, and this one certainly is. I don’t exactly know what I will be doing on Friday (those plans are being held under lock and key), but whatever it is, it will be good because it will be with the people I love and care about most.
Turning 40 is one of the reasons that I chose “celebrate” as my word for the year. I want to celebrate life, and celebrate living. I believe that God rejoices in our celebrations when we recognize that all good and perfect gifts are from His hand.
So, here’s to the first 40 years of my life. Some were great, some were not, but all are worth celebrating.