Today is my birthday.
I am 32...
(Born in 1981, not 1881 like my sweetly confused eight year old thought.)
I spent a good part of today crying. Some happy tears. Some sad tears. Tears while driving. Tears while hiding in the bathroom. Tears while laying out my clothes. Tears were big today, yo.
I cried today because I couldn't help but compare this birthday with my thirtieth birthday. (I scarcely remember turning thirty-one much less living the past year) When I blogged about that date two years ago I was filled with optimism. I spoke of a cancer free almost two year old. I spoke of fixing my marriage. I spoke of knowing God more closely and gaining patience in my life. I spoke out through my writings of happiness and contentment and a future...I had big plans for being 30.
Unfortunately, thirty was not the year I found myself or rested in my optimism. Thirty was the year I almost died...the year that I fought with all I had in me for Pipers life. The year I just wanted to keep my little family afloat. The year I yearned for simplicity and the year that I held my second born daughter, beautiful and broken, as she died.
Thirty sucked in such a big way.
Thirty was without a doubt, the worst year I have lived and hopefully, will live.
And now two short years later I am beginning again to scratch my way to the surface. I have felt peace and I have felt a despair that would frighten the most staunchly faithful soul.
Often within moments of each other.
Of thirty-two I have no expectations.
I have a heart filled with joy after birthing the sweet boy I call Beck. I have a heart filed with thankfulness that God is continuing to allow me to raise and love my Linley. I have a heart filled with trust as I look to my husband and learn more about how to be the wife I need to be...irregardless.
I am learning. Two years after I had an overflow of wit and optimism I fear I am left a weary but upright woman. I feel every single one of my thirty-two years and I relish them each despite not remembering large chunks of a few of them.
I am thankful for them.
For each of these thirty-two years, I have lived and breathed and even, hurt. There is a quote I see floating around the Internet and it rings so true to me...
"do not regret growing older, it is a privilege denied to many." (unknown)
So I will grow older. Perhaps wiser. Always as faithfully and deliberately as I can muster up the strength for. And here's to you, thirty-two. Be kind to me...I'm only waiting to see how you unfold and I am thankful you've arrived.