These are the last days of my 30s. I can't believe it. I hardly feel qualified to be 40.
I am not bothered by this big birthday (though that might change if anyone gives me "Over the Hill" cards - how depressing!). Bothered isn't the word. A little stunned, though. How have I been alive 40 years?
I can't imagine what the next decade holds, but I'm looking forward to living it. I can look back, though.
The most obvious occupation of my 30s was my kids. I gave birth at age 30, 32, 34, and 37. It appears that most of the decade was spent pregnant or nursing.
Kevin and I established our household again and again - six times! -- and in five cities.
We converted from Protestant to Catholic.
I read countless books. Slept a lot. Cleaned my bathroom more times than I care to recall (wish I could cut back on that in my 40s but I don't see it happening). Made friends. Lost a few, or moved away. Saw some sights. Tried some stuff.
Overall, I'm content. Not entirely. There are always little "itches" here and there (what if we just picked up and moved to Great Falls, Montana?) - what if I'm missing my calling in Politics?
In the moments when I trust God and quiet myself, I'm smiling. At least grinning. Life is good.
I started a journal in 2002. Before I was married, I zoomed through a journal a year - sometimes faster. But this one has dragged on for eight years. There are only a few pages left and then I'm closing it whether I make it to the final page or not. I think a new decade warrants a new journal, don't you? And I'll close the book on the 30s at the same time.