So long, Twenty-Five

I'm 26 years old now.

It happened almost a month ago now.

I've been trying to remember what I felt like when I turned 25... Boo took me to Vast for my birthday last year. It's this super fancy restaurant at the top of the really really tall Devon tower in OKC. The atmosphere was pretty neat - waaay out of our league - we couldn't help but giggle at the pre-dinner 'palate cleanser' they served us, compliments of the chef... it was a slice of pineapple on a teeny tiny fork. Hilarious. I remember it was a Friday during Lent, so I picked a vegetarian option and it was turrible. But the cocktails were delicious and the company was even better. And I was twenty-five...a quarter of a century old. Woah.

Twenty-Five has a sort of wonder to it. It's one of those milestone numbers that lends itself to serious examination. I remember feeling like I really needed to get my act together. Not that I wasn't already on a good track -- it's just that 25 swiftly turns into 30 turns into 40 turns into 50 turns into old (sorry Mom and Dad). It's as if Twenty-Five unlocks the door to the rest of your life.

So I made a list of things - 25 things - that I would accomplish in my 25th year of life. I was certain that I would complete them all, and on my 26th birthday I'd proudly show off all 25 things crossed off my list. I'd be triumphant, and you'd be really impressed.

So now, I'm 26. I've been 26 for a month. The long anticipated day when I planned to show off my flawless forearm stand and present my shiny new, un-shattered iPhone screen with glee and gusto has come and gone without much commotion.

I celebrated turning 26, and actually it was super fun...but part of me didn't really celebrate the end of 25. I think it's mostly because I didn't mark everything off my 25 While 25 list.

In fact, I didn't mark most things off my list (see below).

So, instead of feeling super proud of myself at the end of my quarter-century, I felt kind of sheepish. I really did want to be able to do a forearm stand. I really did want to write to Reyna once a month. I really did want to read a book every month. I wanted to be the type of person that had the dedication and discipline to form good habits like those. I wanted to be stronger, more flexible, more in-tune with my body. I wanted to be generous and thoughtful - the kind of person who takes time to write letters to a little girl in Peru.

I still want to be that kind of person. I crave a life of virtue. I crave a life of intentionality and discipline, of generosity and joy, of adventure and creativity.

I just thought I'd be that kind of person by now. I thought I'd have that kind of life by now. Twenty-Five years is a lot of years. You'd think that we'd know everything we need to know in 25 years.

We should get it by now.

But we don't. Well at least I don't. Not consistently, at least. I'm still usually a hot mess. Womp womp.

If there's one thing I've learned in the last 25 years, and especially year twenty-five, is that there is only one thing that we really can and should strive to know:  that God is good, and we are His.

In spite of my mostly incomplete list, Twenty-Five was a great year. And honestly, I think Twenty-Six is going to be just as great, if not better. God is already presenting opportunities to me that I never imagined - yeah, some of them definitely freak me out - but I'm hopeful that things are shifting for good reasons, and that after and amidst the change, there is peace.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

John 14:27-28