Today is the last day of my 20's. No longer can I claim to be a twenty-something trying to figure it all out. When I open my eyes tomorrow, I will be 30. And, while 30 isn't actually that old (ahem), it's a lot older than I'm ready to be. I thought I would have done more. I planned to have seen more. I hoped to have more.
But, right now, as I'm lying in bed, JC and Myra Mae are playing tag in the hallway. I can hear their giggles. I can hear the pitter-patter of Myra's feet as she runs, full throttle, desperate to keep pace with her big brother's giant steps. I can visualize the enormous, slobber laden grin as she looks at him adoringly because right now, he is her god. I picture him. His chest is stuck out. His shoulders are proud because she loves him. Patrick watches them with the same sense of pride, and his heart overflows. It's tangible; you can see it in the sparkle in his eyes. You can hear it as he encourages them to run faster. Myra begins to cackle, and I imagine her whole body shaking as it does when she is overcome with complete bliss.
I fight the urge to go join them. It's been an exhausting week of driving, studying, grading, writing, editing, and planning. So, Patrick has yet again exiled me to my room.
"You've got two choices," he orders. "You can either work on your homework or go to sleep." I willingly comply. I'm just so exhausted.
Another reason that I remain hidden in the darkness is because I don't want to steal their moment. They are both at an age where they spend 92% of their time competing for and demanding my undivided attention. The second the door creaks, they will come running. And the moment will have passed.
I thrive on their devotion and adoration. It provides me a purpose. It gives me hope. It lets me know that, even though I thought there would be more money in the bank, a nicer car in the driveway (which would lead to a nicer house), and smaller clothes in my closet, I realize that I am exactly where I belong. I am just where God put me, and I am blessed. I struggle to find a balance between it all, and the only child in me throws tantrums much more often than she should. Thankfully, Patrick the Great often swoops in to save the day. It's no coincidence that he's Superman's dad.
I stay right where I am, and eavesdrop on the three most important people in my whole world. They have moved on, and Myra is holding her baby doll. I can hear her "shhhing" her. JC is looking over his house plan book. He's stuck on one plan which he insists we are going to build together. I don't have the heart to tell him that, because of my shopping mistakes, he'll be another decade older before we get the chance.
My 20's were a time of change. I married the love of my life. Bought our first house. Said goodbye to three of the most important men in my life. Became a mother. Twice. Graduated college. Began grad school. Taught some of the brightest and most inspirational young adults you could imagine. Made mistakes. Made more mistakes. Overcame them. Sorta. Dealt with my parents separation. Made lifelong friends. Became closer to God. Began a debt-free journey. Watched my children grow. Loved. Cried. Hoped. Feared. Dreamed.
Through it all, I somehow managed to find myself. I managed to grow and change and become confident in who I am. I learned to love me for who I am rather than who I am expected to be. I learned to forgive. I learned that people will always have something to say, but people don't matter. God matters. I learned that God is in control, and His blessings will flow tenfold if I just butt out and let Him take control.
So, it is with great pleasure that I say goodbye to my 20's. I am welcoming the next decade of my life with open arms. I can only hope that the next ten years are as full of life as these past ten were. I can only hope that they are spent as passionately as this decade was.
