Ok, I admit it, I've been freaking out a little bit about turning thirty years old. For a while, I wasn't even been able to get the words out without my chest tightening up. This past Saturday, I started randomly yelling, "I'M TURNING THIRTY IN ONE WEEK!" to no one in particular in my kitchen.
Why, you ask? Well, my guess is because once I turn thirty I won't feel like such a young mother anymore, and for nine years now, that has been my "thing." People would ask how old I am and I would say, "Twenty-five." And they would say, "Wow! With three children already? You're such a young mother!" See what I mean?
Also, I've always been "mature for my age," whatever that means. "You're only 21? Wow, you're so mature for your age!" Now, when I tell someone I'm thirty-something, they'll think to themselves, "Yeah, that's about right."
So I had this plan to celebrate the day before my 30th birthday, the last day of my twenties. Then, on the actual birthday, I'd wear black and not accept any presents. Something dramatic like that, because I've always been dramtic and wanted attention and by-golly turning thirty will not change that!
So here's where the story changes. I'm doing this play, The Diary of Anne Frank, and also it's October which is breast-cancer awareness month, so I've been thinking a lot about people who die too young. People who never see thirty! How sad, how awful, never to get to turn thirty! To have life cut so short by war or hunger or cancer.
And so Sunday, yesterday, God changed my heart. Now I feel amazingly lucky to turn thirty. I want to; I want to see 40, and 50, and 60! I want to see my children grow up! I don't want to stop time and miss out on all the things life has for me next. I'm so grateful that God opened my eyes to this. He did it just in time- I only have 6 more days until I'm... th--thir--thirty.
There, I said it.