40

I’ve been thinking about this day for a while now, as it has grown steadily closer.  And now that it’s here, I have two things to say.  First, to those over 40 – you were right.  Everything you said about turning 40 was right.  Secondly – to those under 40 – they are right.  Everything you heard about turning 40 is right.  So listen to me, because as I write this, I’m still just 39.  I’m still one of you.  Except you punk twenty-somethings who already think you know everything.  (Oh no – I’ve got to hurry – the 40 is starting to take over…)

I write because it seems so absurd that I’ve reached this point in life.  I want to go around and show it off, like I did as a kid when I found something so bizarre that it had to be shared.  “Look at this!  Isn’t this so weird??”, we would compel those around us to join in the observation of whatever rock or fungus or fossil.  And so I share with you this absurdity – I am 40.  WEIRD!  How can it be? I don’t feel 40.

But as I observe myself, there are too many details to ignore.  My hands are not the hands of youth.  They wrinkle and pucker, I suppose with the years of sun that they have absorbed (SPF, young'uns - it's true).  My waistline is certainly nothing like it was 20 years ago.  Five children, a serious love affair with peanut butter, and little time to exercise (see: five children) has insidiously padded my frame over the years.  My eyesight is steady, although I notice my focus takes a moment or two more.  Forty years of life have begun now to show on my face, etching themselves around my eyes and mouth, and a particularly annoying crease near my jawline on the left.  Google has suggested that I sleep on my back to prevent more of these from occurring.  Sorry Google, sorry face - side sleeper for life.

I look again and more details show themselves.  My compassion has expanded, my empathy deepened, and my knowledge has grown.  My life that I have lived has allowed me joys that soar to the heavens, hurts that have gutted me, and stretches of ennui that have lasted longer than I anticipated.  I see people and the hurt behind their eyes and actions.  I see the world and the ugliness and brokenness.  I can give grace to the young, I can give mercy to the hurting, where I couldn’t before.  I move slower to judgement and quicker to love.  I know how to deal with what matters, and let the other things go.  I can stick to my guns, I can step up and do what needs to be done. 

And I look back at myself 20 years ago – the one with smooth skin, and narrow hips, and glossy hair – and I love her, but I don’t wish her back.  My skin may be wrinkled, but it’s comfortable.  I’m happy that I’ve made it this far.  I am pleased that I have grown and changed.  Even if I could turn back the clock, I wouldn’t want to give up all that I have gained in these years.  And so with that, I embrace 40 and however many years beyond that God allows me.  And I’ll keep growing and keep changing.

Oh, the beauty of age!