50 Is Knowing God Has Been So Faithful

This is 50.

Fifty is waking early on a dark Saturday morning to get to a marching band competition.

Fifty is driving late at night with squinty eyes because of the halo effect of night driving to pick up my husband, who has been traveling for the last three weeks, from the airport.

Fifty is making him drive home.

Fifty is ordering pizza on a Friday night because no one is eating at the same time.

Fifty is helping my girl with her college apps.

Fifty is obsessively watching FindFriends for my eldest, who is traveling for school.

Fifty is missing him dearly.

Fifty is watching “And Just Like That” and relating.

Fifty is dreaming about unfinished dreams and slogging very slowly through a book.

Fifty is spending the last decade only writing 18,000 words.

Fifty is keeping reading glasses in my purse and around the house for the days I wear contacts.

Fifty is wearing glasses more instead.

Fifty is wearing casual clothes, flat shoes, and pants with no buttons.

Fifty is spa days by myself . . . doing anti-aging wraps.

Fifty is a messy house, and cherishing it, knowing that an empty nest is around the corner.

Fifty is still financial stress.

Fifty is still deciding what to do next for work.

Fifty is getting messages about my mom in the ER, always for heart complaints and never for anything serious.

Fifty is naps almost every day.

Fifty is waiting for my daughter to come home for lunch on school days.

Fifty is driving a manual car again and feeling more confident than in my 20s.

Fifty is continually learning to have a grateful heart.

Fifty is wrestling with what I think I know, what the world says, and what the Bible tells me.

Fifty is loving others anyway.

Fifty is knowing that things can change on a dime and bravely going on anyway.

Fifty is acknowledging that worry is present, but it doesn’t have to have a say in my life.

Fifty is the middle part.

Fifty is launching children while watching aging parents.

Fifty is getting distracted by my phone all the time.

Fifty is noticeably more out of shape but still feeling strong.

Fifty is still journeying toward figuring out who I am (and my writing voice).

Maybe 50 is the year I will discover my calling, but 50 is also knowing not to hold my breath.

Fifty is knowing that life is one step in front of the other, doing the next thing.

Fifty is feeling the passage of time so keenly, more than any of the other years.

Fifty is sitting in my home of over 20 years, with my sleeping husband upstairs, my darling daughter at the local high school for marching band practice, my son across the country, and knowing God has been so faithful.