I would like to say that I begged my lucky stars to keep this birthday from coming, but the truth is that I’m more than ready to be 30.
There’s nothing special about the big 3-0 I suppose. And some of you are going to laugh your way through this post. Perhaps I’ll laugh, too, when I’m older and wiser.
But entering this new decade of life is significant for me, and I’m so incredibly hungry for it. Probably because my twenties felt like one boxing match of emotions over and over and over again.
Brand new to the workforce. Brand new to marriage. Brand new to motherhood. Brand new to working overseas. Brand new to grad school. Brand new to adoption.
None of you told me that living through my twenties would be equal to a perpetual first day of freshman year of high school. That the older, cooler gals would know the tricks, but that I would be doing my dead-level best to keep from tripping over my own feet. While juggling a new job and a new marriage and a new baby and a new house and a new EVERYTHING.
I blame y’all. I BLAME ALL Y’ALL.
I’m not writing this post to commiserate about my 20s. I really have so much to celebrate from the last ten years. The ‘firsts’ are beautiful and joy-filled, too! (Though if you’re fresh out of college this is my fair warning that you may be getting ready to be knocked around for a while.)
I remember sitting with an older lady after worship one night, feeling drained from a marriage where my husband was working 100+ hours a week and I was carrying myself spiritually.
What do I do? I asked. How do I get him to lead me?
She didn’t jump on my side, or make a dig at my husband. She didn’t feel sorry for me or puff me up.
You pray, she said. And that was it.
I remember being new to the work abroad. I was loading all kinds of comparison on my shoulders and carrying unnecessary expectations from others. So I called up a mentor.
What do I do? I asked. How do learn to be satisfied with myself?
She breathed some life into my deflated sails. She spoke truth to blot out some of the lies I’d been believing.
Go back to Scripture, she said. Come back when you see how God views women in the Bible.
I remember attending a retreat with other adoptive moms. Exhausted. Feeling helpless. Wondering if I was totally screwing up my kids.
What do I do? I asked. How do I raise these children?
And they cried with me and nodded their heads and made sure I knew that everything I was experiencing was totally normal in the attachment process.
Be reminded, they said, that your Father adopted you long before you adopted this child.
What I’ve learned from my recent past is I need women.
Especially those of you who are…ahem…aging. Like, ahead of me.
I need you pretty much exactly like Titus 2:3-5.
Because there are times when I’m losing it on my husband and I need you to teach me to be patient.
There are times I’m losing it on my kids and I need you to teach me to pray.
There are times I’m losing it on this culture and I need you to teach me to persist.
There are times I’m losing it on my work and I need you to teach me to let go.
There are times I’m losing it on my weaknesses and I need you to pick me up, dust me off, tell me to get a grip, slap me around a bit, give me an encouraging word, speak some truth into me, and send me on my way.
Warmed and filled. Preferably with a dose of Scripture.
And a big piece of chocolate cake.
Your life experiences are rich, and I know you get it. So I need you, gals 30+.
And for you gals under 30, I’m committed to you, too. I can’t promise the chocolate cake, but I can give you loads of affirmation and a big pot of curry.
Do you find it difficult to ask for mentorship from women who have lived more life from you? What has been your experience in seeking out an older woman to disciple you in your journey?
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Here’s our Instagram collection from this week using #VelvetAshesAging. You can add yours!