According to my birth certificate, today is the day I turn forty. Aside from the deepening lines on my face, the increasing number of silver strands in my hair, and the need to take my glasses off while I read, this birthday feels much like the ones before it. Although, there is some solemnity to the turning of a decade, or four. While I have not fretted over the visual aspects of aging, yet, I have still reached this milestone with some foreboding.
As I look ahead, I am acutely aware that this was the decade in which my grandmother was widowed. It was the decade in which my father was diagnosed with cancer. And it was the decade in which my mother was widowed. These facts give me pause.
As I look ahead, I also realize that this is the decade in which three of my children will learn to drive. It is the decade in which two of my children will graduate from high school. And it is the decade in which I will be the mother of four teenagers. These facts give me nightmares.
As I look ahead, I trust what everyone keeps telling me: that despite all of these things, the decade of the forties is the best. This “fact” gives me hope. Hope I can see from the decades before, when life was its chaotic, messy, unpredictable self but still managed joy, laughter, life, and blessing in the midst of it all.
My twenties were spent trying to undo everything I thought I knew about living in America, about being married, about being a Christian, about loss, about family, about everything. It was an exciting, soul crushing, and ultimately hopeful decade.
My thirties were spent trying to re-establish what mattered most to me, what I wanted to pass on to my children, what I wanted my adult life to be given to, what was worth my time and what was not. It was an inspiring, exhausting, and ultimately hopeful decade.
Right now, on the cusp of a new decade, life feels a bit like eating a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans…anything could happen. I look ahead to the forties with hope, and not a little trepidation. I wonder what will define this decade and how I will respond. With my identity, priorities, and focus firmly solidified, what questions will loom large over me?
In the midst of all the unknowns, one thing I know is that books will still hold a place of prominence in my daily life. To that end, inspired by a good friend, I would love it if you would tell me one book you think I should read during my fortieth year. I will update this post with all the suggestions I get so we can all benefit from my virtual birthday present!
Thank you, in advance! I cannot wait to hear what you suggest!