There's More than 10 Years Between 40 and 50

Today is my birthday. I'm allowed to be reflective and sentimental. I make no apologies.

I don't remember every detail of my 40th birthday but I remember enough. I was 325+ pounds and uncomfortable in my own skin. I was living in a house that never felt like a home. I had a job that was unfulfilling. I was in a relationship that never felt like love and was doomed from the start. I was unhappy. I was miserable. I excelled in self-loathing and was in every likelihood not the best candidate for a friend. I was, and I put this mildly, a physical, emotional and spiritual car crash. A bad one.

Ten years later and another world, another life. I weigh just under 200 pounds and enjoy moving this body, pushing this body, living in this body. I live in a home that feels like a home; a safe place in the world and sometimes from the world. I have a job that's meaningful and ministry that fulfills me, and I'm blessed beyond measure to be in a relationship that feels like love because it is love; the truest of love. A love I never could have anticipated and would have never had the nerve to ask for had I even known such love was possible. I'm more than happy. I'm overjoyed by my life and grateful for even the messy days, even the knock-you-down-and-suck-the-air-out-of-your-lungs days. I'm awed God has done all this for me, been so generous with me, so thoughtful of me. Thank you. Thank you so much.

And here is a simple thing but a wonderful thing. The best moment of my 50th birthday was this. . .listening to a message on the phone from my mom singing "Happy Birthday." Her voice was raspy and weak and the tune at times a tad off pitch but it would have put the Vienna Boys Choir to shame with it's sweetness.