I turned 30 last week. And this really weird thing happens when you turn 30. People become oddly and overly concerned with how you feel about it. “Oooooh. 30. Wow! How are you doing with that?” I can’t count the times someone said that to me before “the big day.” And then immediately following (it’s been 1 week and 1 day…) 3 different people asked how I was “handling it.”
And it makes me think of the movie P.S. I Love you. You know the one where Gerard Butler dies, widowing his wife (Hilary Swank) but leaves her these letters to help her move on. It’s the worst. But also the best. During the movie, Holly (Hilary) befriends Harry Connick Jr. and…. please… if you haven’t seen it, just watch the movie. And also, welcome to 2018; if you haven’t seen it…we probably have no business together. Kbyyyeee.
SO- toward the end of the movie Connick’s character says: “We’re so arrogant, aren’t we? So afraid of age, we do everything we can to prevent it. We don’t realize what a privilege it is to grow old with someone.”
Me:*dries eyes* Because all the yeses and praise-hand emojis to this. What a privilege it is to grow old (we will save the “with someone” for another sappy sort of blog post. TBD). To experience life. To walk into each season holding something new you’ve learned and anticipating everything that’s up ahead.
A privilege to grow old. We forget what that means. I lost mom way too early. And also lost my sweet sister-like cousin when she was just 18. And I walked alongside my husband when his lovely sister passed away when she was only 28 from a long and arduous battle with cancer.
I think about my mom a lot, obviously. Especially on my birthday, though. I count how many birthdays I have left until I’m as old as she was when she left. I meditate on how one day my hands will look more like hers in the breaking dawn of her 50s than they do here when I am 30. I wonder what THAT will feel like- to grow older than my mother was.
I’m not saying you can’t freak out about turning 30. Full disclosure, my sister cried A LOT when she turned 30. And I didn’t ask her if I could share that. I have two sisters. So you can just guess which one it was. It is a big deal. That’s a lot of life. But man, what a blessing for it not to be 30 years of life lost. So I just feel like it’s a lot of life to celebrate!
And so celebrate I do! I mean- Am I as skinny as I want to be? No. But my life made two other little lives, and I love bread, and I’M WORKING ON IT. Am I as carefree as I want to be? Absolutely not. I lay awake wondering, and worrying, and thinking like any normal person.
But I’m as funny as I want to be (I laugh at my own jokes constantly). I’m as momed up as I want to be (two kids is just enough for me, thanks). I’m as married as I want to be (just to clarify, I am 100% married). And I’m as happy as I would want to be if I were 20 and thinking about what 30 years old looked like.
My husband turned 30 about a month before me and he has been so stoked to turn 30 for like 28 years. He always tells me that our 30s and our 40s are going to be our best years. Our kids are getting older and more fun (according to him. I reject any sort of celebration of the fleeting moments of their babydum when they will eventually leave me in a puddle on the floor for their own lives). And that helps- to be married to a man who loves the few gray hairs he has in his facial stubble and always says “Workin’ on my Dad-Bod every time he eats an extra helping of dessert (which is also every time).
So. I turned 30. And I just think it’s a privilege that God has given breath in these lungs for that long and I think we should all just love and embrace each passing moment we are granted with people we love.
But I’m still going to moisturize. And also I bought an eye cream. Because, you know, take care of the temple and all that.
Finally. Kacie. Kacie is the sister who lost it when she turned 30. That’s all for now.