Turning 30

There’s a hole in my soul
I can’t fill it/I can’t fill it
There’s a hole in my soul
Can you fill it?/Can you fill it?
-Flaws, Bastille

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened
And I will give you rest for your souls.
-Jesus, Matthew 11:28


Well, I survived my 30th birthday. I didn’t know if it was possible. I’d been gearing up for a panic-pity party-which I attended, of course. Leaving a whole decade behind is pretty scary, and of course, it took me by surprise. The pressure to accomplish, to decide, to perform, to have it all-to graduate, get a great job, travel, marry, have children, get an exercise routine down, decorate perfectly, have great taste, figure out eyeliner-is huge. I think I thought I’m supposed to be Elizabeth Elliot meets Martha Stewart meets a Victoria‘s Secret model. So by 30, I really thought, silly me, I’d have it ALL FIGURED OUT. Smirk.

All disillusionment aside, though, when I think about my 20s, I can’t help but grin. It was good! I lived in Texas TWICE and had many crazy adventures (boozy snow cone shop, anyone? Only two Starbucks?). I’ve been a writing tutor, Christian bookstore clerk, camp counselor, staff director, copy writer, receptionist. I graduated with an English Lit degree, traveled to Italy and Norway. I had a great group of friends called The Sunday Night Club, all of whom got me through college. I believe that reading Agatha Christie or Mary Stewart is a wonderful brain refresher.  I can make foam for a latte. I can also make alfredo sauce out of cashews. I learned how to drive a stick shift and how to live alone. I read a lot of books, watched a lot of British movies and tv, went on a lot of road trips. I’ve spent entire paychecks on coffee.  I got to be a bridesmaid for some dear friends. I also figured out I loved running. I have opinions on Gothic literature and think Jane Eyre to be the greatest heroine in English literature. I learned that probiotics are so necessary for taking antibiotics. Being without a hot water bottle was unthinkable. The doughnut people knew me by name and doughnut. I discovered I liked scary movies more than chick flicks. I’ve set goals to read all the books I didn’t get to in college. I get mad when I have too many weekend plans. I’ve figured out I’ll never be a morning person. I met my best friends, and married my best friend in my 20s. I’ve gotten to know my family all over again through the years, if that makes sense. There were some sad things, too. I lost my apartment to black mold and lost all my books. I was diagnosed with food allergies and fibromyalgia. I had a miscarriage. I’ve been through counseling, because being a human is hard. There has been relational change, job change, living situation change, and spiritual change.

My thoughts on this next decade? The word that keeps coming to mind is embrace. Embracing weaknesses, embracing strengths. Embracing work times, rest times. Embracing and making the most of my time with friends, family, and even introvert time. I am going to embrace and remember the things that I used to think I didn’t  have time or energy for anymore, like reading and party planning and baking and planning trips and finding the worst and scariest B-movies on Netflix. I’ll be embracing the fact that my house, hair, habits, hobbies don’t need to be perfect. I’ll be embracing the fact that it’s ok to be tired from working, tired from having a chronic illness, tired from being alive. I’ll be embracing grace. Grace from my beautiful friends and family and co-workers. Grace from God, who truly blesses me with all I need, even though I am always inadequate. Embracing this life, this new decade with all its troubles and joys, sorrows and mirth.

                                                Getting proposed to on top of a mountain.

Searching for The Dress. 

Posing for Cinnamon Roll French Toast with my buddy, Jessi. 

Couch shopping for my first apartment at Ikea with Sarah. 

My solo vacation to the beach.

Catching rays at the Vatican.

Some of my favorite girls in the world. 

Me and the Madre on top of the world in Norway. 

Mr. and Mrs. at last. 

Tulip Day!

The family at my graduation party from Western. 

My favorite ladies. 

Renovation

O break, O break, hard heart of mine!
Thy weak self-love and guilty pride
His Pilate and His Judas were:
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

-Hymn, O Come and Mourn with Me a While

I believe, help my unbelief!
-Father of a sick child Jesus healed, Mark 9:24


I don’t pick up the Bible as often as I’d like.

Before you roll your eyes at me and suggest that I just calm down about having a spiritual high horse, or say the Bible is hard to understand anyway and is full of contradictions and confusion and controversy, or tell me to get on the quiet time band wagon, let me say that I know all of that. Believe me. I grew up in church, surrounded by activities like Sunday school and Awana and Bible quizzing, attending and serving at apologetics camp. I’ve memorized a lot of Scripture over the years, most of which now I couldn’t repeat word for word now, but its truth remains in my head and heart. I’ve messed up a lot in my life, in relationships and life choices, and just in the daily grind of deciding how to live my little life. I’m usually in some stage of doubting faith, usually about my own ability to practice Christianity, because I typically forget that life in Christ is grace-ridden. But my raggedy faith is my own, won through dark nights of the soul, and I believe in the life, death, resurrection, and message of Jesus wholeheartedly. I have a deep, deep love of Scripture. I don’t think I’ve read it all the way through yet, and there’s lots from the Old Testament that I don’t understand. But love of the Word is foundational to my life and my thinking.

So…why don’t I read it more often now?

A simple question that I’ve shied away from. I think I tell myself that I’m too tired in the morning, and I’ll read it before bed. But if my eyes aren’t drooping too much when I crawl in bed, I tend to reach for the murder mystery on top of my Bible instead. You know. I’ve been practicing this technique of “I’ll read it later” for so long it’s a strong habit to break. And this is something I know is life-giving, a fresh wind in my soul, helps me breathe better, and inspires my creativity and introvert self.

I think the real reason is that life-giving things also tend to be hard things. Things that we can break ourselves on. I know from experience that my walls of pride, independence, anger, and malice will be assailed with the good and hard things of God when I read the Bible. I am afraid my little walls and fortresses and towers will be completely breached. God calls me to put to death the things that are not of Him-the ways of anger and gossip and hatred and storing up bitterness. He calls me to put on the ways of love and forgiveness and compassion for everyone, to forgive as He has forgiven me. Such a beautiful and holy way to live, but so challenging. Life apart from Christ beckons me to an existence of mediocre rules and regulations, of the easy life of selfishness. My heart gets hard so quickly-it freezes tight and squeezes shut. Scripture is my exfoliate, my rock tumbler, my pumice stone, the tide that washes all my stones smooth.

I want to read the Bible more…not because I have to, but because I get to. Because it washes my dusty being, because it restores me, because my hard heart must break wide open for His transformation to begin. I long for soul-deep renovation, and it is to be found in the living words of Scripture, in addition to prayer, to solitude, to community, to service, to practicing belief, to being in nature. Knowing Scripture widens my heart and graces me with compassion for others and fills me with the knowledge of His love.