I had to take a quick selfie on my way into the subway, but this is 34!
On Friday, I turned 34 and kept it pretty low-key to celebrate the day. I slept in a little, went to brunch with Jordan at Sarabeth’s (lemon ricotta pancakes, oh my!), was forced to spend some money on myself, and, per my request, had a delicious fried chicken dinner with our family — all prepared by Jordan.
I also got showered with love through phone calls and messages, which I have to say, impresses me so. I’m the friend who thinks about your birthday sev-er-al times throughout the day, and each time tell myself I’ll call when I finish whatever current task I’m wrapped up in. Next thing I know (said in your best old black man voice), I’m calling at 9:00 p.m., if I’m lucky. Seriously, if you ever get a birthday call from me before 1:00 p.m., consider yourself to have experienced a real-life miracle.
As we walked around the city on Friday, Jordan asked me, “what are you hoping for this year?” It takes me awhile to process questions like these, so my first answer was the somewhat obvious, “To continue enjoying the people I love, our home, and our city.”
After giving it some more thought over the day and weekend, here’s also what I really want:
I want to end more of my days feeling like what I’ve done is enough.
Too many times, I climb into bed at night and start a list in my head of all the things I could have done or should have done but didn’t. Not only do I make the list, but I typically follow it up with beating myself up and wishing I had more, that I was more. More of some character trait — more disciplined, more punctual, more efficient, more kind, more focused, more energetic, more responsive to text messages (I’m sorry, y’all! I see your text, and God’s not through with me yet.)
This isn’t an excuse to not try or work hard, but it is permission to not be perfect. To
realize embrace my limitations. To trust that God can take care of me in spite of those limitations. To move from a place of fear and judgment about where I fell short to a place of rest and acceptance about who I am as a child loved by God.
This year, after I’ve tried my best — or even just my pretty good — I want to climb into bed and say, “That was enough.”