forty

I'm taking a break from month-at-a-glance entries to pay homage to my fortieth birthday.  it was unbelievably wonderful, no lie.

tegan and sara @ warehouse live.  so much fun!

ole lulu has to wear her glasses, so she can see everything...

on top of the magnolia hotel after breakfast.  gorgeous.

lounging.  because we can.

sushi lunch

argo

couples massage.  luxury.

gussied up for dinner at 17.  dear friends bethy & jer joined us for dessert.

sunday lunch after church at bombay brasserie in the village... delicious, and this face.

on my actual birthday, we went to the zoo with the browns

and that night we had dinner at S&L's, delectable fish and veggies and chocolate cake that I may or may not still be nibbling at.

an amazing time, and I thank my husband and family and friends for helping me feel so cared for.   mostly my husband, though, because he's the real deal and I love him so much. 

forty is fine, y'all.

I don't feel weirded out about age.  

what I'm thinking I do feel, at least what I've felt the past few days, is this:

my sin is ever before me.

it just is.  I'm so acutely aware of how many times per day I clench my teeth when I'm trying to keep from losing my patience with my children.  of how I can hold a grudge.  of the white lies I tell for a myriad of reasons.  of how I judge.  the anger sometimes.  so many other things that make the first part of psalm 51 ring way too true;

have mercy on me, o God, according to your unfailing love;

according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.

wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.

for I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.

against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight;

so you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge.

surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.

as important as I feel it is to be able to call things what whey really are, I know God doesn't intend us to live bleakly, constantly beating ourselves up.  how easy it is to navel-gaze and shrink my world and purpose... let my growing pains, choices, and uncertainties as a mother get twisted into paralyzing guilt, comparisons, and martyrdom.  let my work issues blind me to the blessings I'm given, even in the opportunity to say no.  let my frustrations turn my heart hard, cause me to withdraw and hoard my gifts and time.  let anything be definitive of me but the pursuit of Jesus (which sounds SO Amy Carmichael).  

God calls me out of myself in my fortieth year, as He has most every other one, and I suppose I do feel it more keenly.  He wants me to be open to change, to be malleable still, in the midst of all the things I feel are too much sometimes.  He whispers that they're not too much they're just what's here now, and that it all will change the way things do... like when your baby begin to eat real food and you think 'huh, I thought the baby food phase was going to be longer than that, why did I buy all of this special paraphernalia?', or you look up one day and, overnight, chubby baby knees have become skinny, knobby pre-school ones.  He whispers perspective, daughter.

cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice.

hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity.

create in me a pure heart, o God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.

restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

joy and a willing spirit can sustain.  these days, those are very real, tangible things to shoot for.  I hope some days I can be free enough that it looks like this:

  

because who doesn't want to feel like that?

-m.y.