Last week I entered a new decade and turned 30!
Before I go any further, for those of you who are ahead of me on this timeline of life, please forgive me as I know you stand with the seasoned wisdom and perspective of one who knows that life does not end at 30, in fact it is mostly just beginning. Thank you for listening as I process my own wobbles and come to these conclusions myself. For those of you who have been born after me, I celebrate your season! I hope what I have to share benefits you, but I also know from experience that there are many things that don’t click into place until you have your own ‘aha’ moments. I hope my own bless you in some way.
I was stood in church this morning when I had a thought that I have actually visited multiple times previously, and yet today decided to fully land and settle in my mind, assuring my heart with contentment. It doesn’t matter at what age you get married, how old you are when you have kids, or whether or not you accomplish all the goals you have vision for at the age of twenty or ninety-five. What matters is that you do it well - that you love well. In light of eternity, all of the time lines, measuring sticks and goal charts we have don’t matter. What matters is how well we walk out the journey.
In the weeks running up to November 27th (my birthday), I experienced a few emotional wobbles. Turning 30 felt like a big deal to me. To be honest, it took me by surprise just how much I was affected by it, and how great my expectations were for the day itself. It felt like a marker; the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. In reality, it was just another day in the week, that blended into the month, which was part of a larger year and season. Really the only difference in that day was that I got to spend it around a banquet table with a lot of dear friends and toast life in all its fullness. Otherwise, it was just another day in the life of Joy Attmore.
Dates are interesting right? They can trigger all sorts of responses, feelings, emotions and reactions in us. We can pin so much hope and expectation on them when in actuality, who have they ever saved? What have dates ever done to change history, other than to mark when history has already been changed?
The week before my 30th was Thanksgiving, a holiday that, since moving to America, I have adopted as a beautiful occasion to gather as a family and give thanks. This year however I found myself being triggered by grief and disappointment. You see, last Thanksgiving I had been convinced that I was pregnant, and the Thanksgiving before that I had been pregnant with our first child who we then lost a month later. I had hoped and believed that this year I would be pregnant again by this time, the big looming 3 0 a deadline in my mind which would keep me ‘on track’ to achieve all my timeline goals of being married and a mother by this point. I found myself feeling lost.
Here’s the funny thing: I had been allowing my identity to be given away to societal and personal expectations and timelines instead of ensuring that it was rooted in truth. Who I am is not defined by how much I’ve achieved or own by a certain age; it’s defined by how well I love. Ultimately, by agreeing with a mindset that says I’ve somehow failed because I’m not able to raise kids yet, I don’t have my own home yet, and I’m still trying to figure out how to be an adult, is denying what I was really created for and is a gospel without grace.
I sometimes wish I could say that Phillip and I have been married for much longer than we actually have been, because the competitive side of me wants to be able to win the competition, which isn’t happening with my friends, of who has been married the longest. Who cares if we’ve only been married 1 year or 100 years! What matters is that we can say we love each other well, that we choose covenant every day, and that we even got to love each other at all.
Today I simply came to a place of peace that life looks different at 30 than I always thought it would do, and it’s ok. Maybe you’ve heard others say these same sentiments. Maybe you’re thinking, “Yes Joy, I told you this already, weren’t you listening?!” Maybe you’re in the place of wrestling that I was in last week, or maybe you have no idea what I’m waffling on about. But, if I may, I would love to leave you with this thought: When history tells your story and marks dates in a diary, it won’t be in comparison to anyone else’s life. It will be beautifully and simply all about how you lived your’s, about how you triumphed and overcame, how you wrestled and searched, how you created and dreamed, and how deeply you loved. In light of all eternity, timelines fade away and all we are left with is who we really are.
