Double the 16, Lose the “Sweet”

Tomorrow I’m 32. 

That’s 16×2, for those of you who like math.

I don’t like math.

I have thought a lot about that lately. I remember 16 well. I had a big party at my house on Valley Falls Road. My friends chipped in and got me a Disney song collection boxed set with 3 cassettes and a book. We have the tapes in my van right now. Oh yes, we do!

I wore a gosh-awful red button down shirt with brown fake-suede fringe and cowboy boots on it. It was supposed to be cute. There are no pictures to prove that it wasn’t. But trust me. It wasn’t.

I spent the evening at the party trying to decide who I thought was cuter, Michael or Mitch. Mitch asked me out, so I went. But 6 years later, Michael proposed, so I married him. I’m still amazed at the timing in all of that. 

My 15th birthday was funny. I had friends over, we decided to bake a cake. It called for a lot of water, and a little bit of oil. We got it mixed up. That was one greasy cake. 

My 18th was amazing. I saw Phantom of the Opera in New Orleans with my friend Katie and my parents. 

I remember my 21st, having a party after the basketball game at MC at our church gym and celebrating with my friend Amanda, who’s birthday is a week before mine. 

My 22nd was spent seeing Les Miserables with Michael. We had just gotten engaged, and he got third row seats for my birthday. 

My 25th was very sentimental. Michael called the library at the church I grew up in and asked if he could purchase some of the books I used to read. He made a donation and then went to the library with my mama and they found lots and lots of books with my name on the card, usually written multiple times. I was such a bookworm. Now, I’m the proud owner of a worn copy of Little Women, that I read 9 times in 1985-86. 

My 26th, I was enormously pregnant, and Michael got me a big, white, fluffy bathrobe. I still love that thing to death. 

Then I had kids for the more recent ones, and I can’t remember what on earth happened. I should’ve had a blog, then I’d know! 

I’ve always considered my birthday my actual “New Year”. I guess since it’s January, it seems like the time to get a fresh start. I know I’ve grown and changed this past year in some big ways. I’m learning not to let things get to me. I’m learning that taking things personally is actually pretty arrogant of me, and it’s really not about me at all. This is a huge step for me, to get to this point. This attitude has been a problem for me all my life. 

I’m not much better than I was this time last year, but I know God is working on me, and hopefully my heart is open and willing to receive what he’s saying. I am proud of my life at this point. I’m so thankful that he’s been with me for almost all of it. I’m thankful for all the people that are in it, past and present. I’m excited about what he has in store for me. 

I don’t feel like this said what I’m feeling inside, but I gave it my best shot. I’ve been entrusted with so much, and I pray that God is pleased with what I do with it. 

If being 32 is as much fun as turning 32 will be this weekend, then I’m looking forward to the best year ever.