Today I click another turn around the sun. 40 years, 480 months, 2080 weeks, 14610 days. At this point in life, I've lived long enough to know two undeniable facts (for me): 1. There is a God. 2. I am not them. I've learned that days are long, but the rest of time is short. So very short. I'm living through a pandemic. I've loved. I've lost. I've seen my nearest and dearest friends pass away. I've learned how to love through grief and hurt. I've been the cheerleader and been lifted up so high I had to look down to see heaven. I've carried and been carried (and dragged when necessary). I've shared my life with people who didn't deserve to know my story, and I've just hit the good part in my book of life. I've watched my children grow and change, and I'm getting glimpses of the people they'll grow to be and can still see the babies who I brought forth through the veil into this life. I've watched the Curate live fully into their vocation, and it is a beautiful thing. I have some of the best family, friends, and framily a person could hope for. I've learned to let go, with light and love and peace, and when to hold on even when the road was rough. I've learned sometimes this life is so hard. So hard you can't breathe but keep showing up cause LOVE shows up—every single time. I'm so glad I'm here. I'm so glad I can feel and embrace all of the brutal beauty of life. One of my patients told me that she hoped I would be blessed with many years; at the time, 26 year old invincible me thought that was silly. At 40, I pray I am blessed with at least as many more years ahead of me. As I turn the page on this decade, I hope I continue to learn and have many more "I've learned" statements in 2031. Thank you, whoever you are who reads these. Happy Birthday, Mom. I hope you see the love that isn't always a shout; sometimes, it is barely a whisper. Here's to 2021, the one where everything was different. May it always be so!
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