The other day I looked in the mirror and saw wrinkly lines on my neck. Signs of aging.
Had a Danish. Gained 10 pounds. Immediately as a matter fact. Another sign.
Carried my 20-lb son up the stairs and had to stop for a breather at the top. (Okay, that's just a sign that I need to work out ...) But still.
"What do you want to do for your birthday?" Musa asked me more than once last month.
"I don't know. A spa day, maybe? I'm not in the mood for celebrating."
"What does that mean?" he asked curiously in the tone that very naturally implies "you're going all wierd on me again, babe."
Alas, maybe I am. But this year has been full of so much transition. Moving pieces. Ups and downs. The emotions of being post-partum, the emotions of nursing full-time, the emotions of being emotional.
I don't feel settled. I don't feel like I'm where I want to be personally, spiritually or professionally. Most days it feels like I'm not making any progress toward any of my goals.
What's even more crazy is I'm rediscovering myself. At nearly 29! I always envisioned I would have a firm grip on who I was and what I want by now. Instead I'm surprised by myself. Daily!
So what are we celebrating, really?
I could go on and on, but just as I prepare to venture down the rabbit hole of depair, I hear that small voice whisper that amid all my unmet expectations there has been GOOD this year. My son was born in March. He is my greatest accomplishment. I transitioned to being home full-time, and I made it seven months (baby steps). I got a new car - the car of my DREAMS actually. I started working for myself. MY. SELF.
Well! There has certainly been good.
Sometimes - more often than not - I don't see it or acknowledge it. And that's the shame of it all. But it's there. If I can just take my eyes off me for long enough.
And while I still don't feel like confetti, I'm thankful. Another year of God's faithfulness.
What's not to celebrate?