This is it—the week I turn 40! I think I’m so tired of thinking about it that I’m glad it’s finally here. And I’ve decided “here” is just the place I want to be.
The other day I was hustling all my kids through a busy parking lot when we were stopped by a woman who appeared to be in her late 70s. “Are they all yours?” she asked. “Yes, all mine,” I answered, expecting the standard, “You-sure-have-your-hands-full” line that I often get. But she surprised me by saying, “What I wouldn’t give to go back to where you are, just for a day, and relive that time with my children.” She smiled and walked away, and I buckled everyone into the car with a bit more gratitude for my place in life.
My friend Linda, now 60, says her 40s were the best years of her life. I have a feeling I may end up agreeing with her. The hard work of all that physical parenting in my 20s and 30s is behind me. I am absolutely loving being an elementary-school mom and the more emotional/spiritual/psychological parenting that comes with it. I happily (mostly) did all the nursing, spoon-feeding, swaddling, rocking stuff, but it’s now that I feel like I’m really in my element. All of my kids’ friends’ parents are turning 40 with me, along with my much-loved junior high, high school, and college friends, all of which contributes to the feeling that I’m just where I want to be.
At 40, my marriage, my patience, my cooking, and my abs are all better than they were at 30. I am much less satisfied with the things of this world, much more grieved by my sin, much more desperate for a Savior, much more homesick for the place I was created for.
So, welcome 40. I can actually say I’m glad you’re here. Just please be sure to stick around a long, LONG time.
