Thoughts on Thirty

Thirty was so strange for me. I've reall

y had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult. --C.S. Lewis

Today is my last day in my twenties.  Lots of people have had all sorts of helpful things to say about turning thirty lately.  I’ve heard everything from “Well, the alternative is being dead, so I’d be okay with turning thirty,” to “I bet Jesus wasn’t stressed about turning thirty” (to which I responded “So 33 is the year I need to worry about?”) to even just a simple question, “How are you feeling about it?”

Honestly, I feel pretty great.  Tomorrow I’m going to spend the day with people I love who I’ve chosen to be my family, and Sunday after I’m going to spend the day with the family I was blessed to be given from the very beginning.   Life looks pretty different than it did at twenty-five—and that’s a really good thing.

My twenty-fifth birthday was not a banner moment for me, for several reasons.   I’ve talked to several people who have a birthday like this—people don’t make a point of celebrating with you, and in general you don’t feel loved.  It’s not so much that people don’t love you, it’s that for some reason your birthday goes almost unnoticed by most people.  And let’s be honest, that kind of sucks, even though intellectually you know that people do in fact care about you, it seems like they might not.  I have a distinct memory of having only spent the day with my parents and some crying being involved.

But the more important part of what happened that year was that I made a list of things that I didn’t have in my life which I wanted to have.  Things like friends who weren’t teachers, to be more actively involved in my community, to feel good about my body, to have a Master’s Degree.   I found that list the other day in an old notebook and I realized that without actively looking at that list, I had accomplished almost all of the things I’d written down.

It’s funny when people ask me about how I feel leaving my twenties behind I have a sense that one thing they’re asking me is how I feel about still being single and turning 30. Getting married is one of those things that’s supposed to happen while you’re in your twenties.   Certainly when I was 22 and leaving Grove City and about 70% of the people I knew were already engaged to be married, I thought that by the time I was 30, I too would be married.  And I’m not.  And I feel pretty great about that part of turning 30 too.   Because the thing is, when I look back at my twenties, especially the last five years since that awful 25^th birthday, there isn’t a time that I would trade.  There isn’t a roommate I would trade in order to have lived with a husband instead.  I wouldn’t give back my tumultuous fourth year teaching where I understood exactly what I was made of and how weak others around me were.  I wouldn’t give back the classes I took for two years or the Master’s Degree I earned, or the friends I’ve made in northern Virginia.   

But there’s something more.  The story of my life, the story of anyone’s life, is not about how many things I’ve checked off of a to-do list.  It’s not about listing things out and saying that I’ve done enough to feel good about thirty.  It’s about moments and about people and about trying to live the life I’m called to live.   Deciding to commit the entire rest of my life to another person is a huge deal and I’m so grateful that I didn’t do that at 22 or even 27 because I’m not the same person I was then.  I’ve learned too much about myself, about the lies I was believing at 25 and even 27 to go back to the person I was at 22.  Or to think that the person who would’ve been right for me at 22 would be right for the almost 30 year old I am today.

And one last thing—I’ve also come to realize that if I wanted to be discontent with where my life was at 30, I could be.  Even if I was married.  If I was married I could be discontent about not having kids.  Or not having enough kids.  Or having too many kids.  Or not having a Master’s.  Or with having or not having a job.  There’s always something I could find to be discontent about if I wanted to, but instead deciding to be content and secure in the knowledge that I’m exactly where Jesus wants me to be right now is so much easier.  It’s a lot less stressful that I can stop worrying about life and just live it.  When I can focus on loving on the people I’ve been given and enjoying them loving on me. 

Are there things I want to do in my thirties—absolutely.  I might even make a list of thirty things I want to do.  But if they aren’t things that happen for any reason, I’m going to try to realize that it’s because God has something better for me that I never would’ve even dreamed of putting on my list.  And I’m good with God’s plan over mine at 29 or 30.  Hopefully even at 35 or 40.