Forty Isn’t Old If You’re a Tree

Forty is feeling an odd sense of gratification when embarrassing my kids by saying things like, “Forty isn’t old if you’re a tree.”

Forty is focusing on my two teenagers and one ten-year-old. I had planned on four children when I was twenty, but our third did things like put her head in the toilet, pour rice down the vents, and color the carpet with nail polish. And so, we have three. And I’m incredibly grateful for my three. Early on, I had trouble imagining days void of questions like: “Am I feeding her too much or too often? Am I letting him cry for too long?” Early on, I wondered if surviving parenthood was a possibility for me because I would do things like not pay attention for one minute and my toddler would drink dish soap. And then I would savor the silence for too long and find my oldest “baptizing” my son with toilet water. Those were the twenties, and they were hard. Forty is putting toothpicks in my eyes until my teenagers are safely home. Forty is wondering if I will ever shake the worry about their big, life decisions. I’ll let you know at fifty. For now, forty is two teenagers and one ten-year-old, and it’s more difficult and more precious than I ever imagined it would be.

Forty is appreciating my husband and partner. Marriage is not as glamorous as I thought it would be when I was twenty, but at forty, I am more thankful than ever for a partner who is constant, faithful, and committed wholly to Jesus. Our personalities are largely opposite; for example, when he’s upset, my husband internalizes and appreciates calm and collected dialogue. When I’m upset, I do things like put his clothes in a pizza box full of leftover pepperoni slices and dump it in the trash. So, we’re not quite the same. But through the years we’ve discovered many common interests and passions. We love U2 concerts (one of us slightly more than the other), and because of my husband’s unique ability to know where the band is at all times, we’ve met Bono on a few occasions. We enjoy eating good food with friends and try to be adventurous with new dishes (though we likely will not eat steamed baby octopus again. Ever.) And we both find great delight in worship. Forty is savoring the moments I get to live and worship alongside my husband and partner.

Forty is working as a director of music in our church. I had intended to be a music major because you can do things like work as a music director when you major in music. But that major was short lived and so was my dream of pursuing piano. In my twenties I said a hearty and bitter good-bye to the instrument: Sayonara. Adios. Never will I play you again. And then several years later, I became a music director and started playing the piano weekly. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and for the first time in my life, I passionately love my job. Truth be told, half the time I don’t actually know what I’m doing, but I’m learning, studying, observing, and always striving to be better. Forty is thoroughly enjoying my work.

Forty is missing my earthly parents. I would have never predicted their early deaths in my twenties; in fact, I don’t think I would have been able to breath had someone told me that at forty I would be living in their absence. But I have learned that the timing of the Holy Spirit’s provisions are perfect, and His comfort and strength was poured out to overflowing in the dark days of grief. There are still moments with quiet tears wishing my dad were here to encourage; he was always a great supporter. But there are also smiles as I recall things like my dad’s quirky nicknames for us: Baked-Bo, Mongrel, and the best of the bunch…Belshazzar. Forty is laughing at the fact that these were my dad’s endearing names his daughters, but also that we actually answered to Mongrel and Belshazzar. 

Forty is enjoying two sisters who are my best friends. It’s knowing that with all of our baggage, insecurities, anxieties, and health concerns, we have each other’s back no matter what. Sometimes, though, I wonder how we actually got to this place. God’s grace alone, really, because we were not always best friends; mortal enemies is a more accurate description of our adolescent relationships. I was especially perturbed when they borrowed my clothes, came into my room, and when they did things like breath. It was incredibly annoying when they breathed in my space. But forty is relishing in the closeness of these precious sisters of mine in spite of our physical distance.

Forty is holding onto the hope that my own kids will one day be OK with each other’s breath in their own spaces.

Forty is pursuing a graduate degree in Theological Studies. Considering the reality that last year was the first time I had ever used Google Docs, I’d say I’ve come a long way, though the twenty-year old’s in my graduate classes may have different opinions on that matter. Regardless, I am being stretched in ways I never knew I needed to be. I’m relishing the learning and the growing, and although I listed all the bodies of water on an Old Testament map as countries, I am still on track to graduate. Forty is earnestly hoping that one day I will actually have that master’s degree.

Forty is embracing sweet friendships. When I was twenty, friendships happened over night; it’s the way it goes when you live together in a dorm building. At forty, friendship takes initiative, prayer, and sacrifice. Forty is overflowing with gratitude for friends who take the initiative, who sharpen me though their prayer, who are quick to forgive my mishaps, and who laugh at my [incredibly] dumb jokes. Forty is having friends who confidently say, “You’ve got this,” when I convey that I named all the bodies of water on the map as countries. And then laugh with me.

Forty is recognizing that in the moments I feel ashamed, Jesus’ love is so great that He gave His life for me. In the instants I am overflowing with happiness, Jesus is rejoicing with me. During the seasons of deep grief, the Lord is closer than my breath. And when I awake with anxiety and worry, the Spirit will provide what I need.

What does your stage of life entail? In the midst of the frenzy, the sad, the mundane, and the joy, we are where we are because of God’s merciful and loving leading. Tell others about the great things God is doing, and embrace your stage of life – give thanks for it because you are right where you’re supposed to be. The grass is not actually greener on the other side; this false mantra only leads to emotional exhaustion from hopping fences without stopping long enough to relish in the place God has made for you.

Tomorrow may hold something different, but for today, this is the plot the Lord has given me.

This is forty.