About 90 minutes ago my birthday ended and I just looked up the word “age.” The second definition I read says “a distinct period of history.” Some might refer to the Enlightenment, the 60′s or the Crusades. I guess the past 365 days could be called The 26th… as in year. Since I just began my 27th year of life.
No big deal, I’m 27 and I’m getting flirty with thirty, as I like to say. (Usually when I say that, someone asks how old I am. Upon finding out my actual age, they roll their eyes at me… but do smile. So, victory is mine with that joke. Not without being told that I’m still not that old.)
When I was a teenager I decided for some reason that life was only going to get better the older I got. I wanted to fast forward through my 20′s and land as a seasoned adult who was wise, responsible and making memories with his family. Of course, this was before I started to realize how much fun life could be. At the time of making that decision my body was awkward, my acne was booming, I tugged on my XXL t-shirts constantly and I had no distinct jaw line since I couldn’t grow whiskers yet.
I’ve since adjusted my idea and have settled on the fact that each year can only get better. Now I certainly have lived through a few different years that were more full of regret, shame and lacked grace & peace. However, those were necessary chapters that have since concluded… but still have a distinction in the greater narrative.
I suppose the question is “was The 26th a distinct period?” Of course it was… I’m a little wiser, a little smarter and nobody got hurt this time around (at least I hope not). Perhaps The 26th was distinct for taking a 5 week road trip by myself. Or playing some original songs live for the first time. Or becoming a regular at a coffee shop. And maybe even for some areas of intentionality as I try to flesh out into the man I trust that I’m becoming.
This idea of distinction is tough though. If you’re reading this, you may have read other stories or listened to people’s tall tails or seen people’s Facebook pictures that make you think “wow, what an extraordinary life.” Then that little feeling creeps in that says “your life is less than extraordinary.” Leading to ideas that becoming older is dreadful. It’s all downhill. You’ve missed your best opportunity. Your body is sagging, hair changing color and you’re running out of money to do the things you would like.
Worse yet, you feel like you haven’t made the community around you a better place.
By no means do I think my life is extraordinary. I doubt myself and lack faith often to do as much as I envision doing. And what I envision are actual things I could do. I just don’t and need to resist comfortability.
However, The 26th was distinct. Sure there are a few new experience in the mix… but I’m a bit more seasoned. I engaged new people around me. I asked questions. I had my eyes open to redemption all around me. And most importantly I feel more of myself has been deposited in the communities around me for the better.
Maybe the distinction of another year of life starts in our mind. Maybe it’s deciding that we are going to look for it. Then offer something more of ourselves, rather than take it for ourselves.
Rather than dwelling on what’s been, perhaps we need to accept what IS and trust that beauty can come of it. It may be difficult. It may be more stressful than you like at times. But it may just be worth it. Since it’s forward… not backward.
I’ve sat in some pretty dark moments. I’ve tasted the bitterness of defeat that cripples you to the core. But I’m still standing and I know many others that are too. Each new year of age brings a new beginning. Maybe I won’t do everything I want. But I’m taking shape. I’m a little more at peace with my tension and the tension around me.
So, may we see our own age increase in yearly increments less as a dreadful sign of what we haven’t gained or achieved but as a refining process of how much more we can give.
Then we will see our birthday celebrations as distinct periods of history, with a few gray hairs along the way.
