september eleventh, my twenty fifth.

i drag my hand along this paper to pen the words I have for this past year. frankly, i have none. but this is my attempt as i try to wrestle through the words i could share to inspire, invigorate. hopefully wake you up like my soul needs awakening. 

stuffy nose. light headache. i look across the water in front of me as my skin absorbs the visceral sunlight. ripples don’t exist in this pool i see. it’s soft, subtle, not stagnant but still. still and full of life that beams from the chlorine. chlorine, if you didn't know, actively works to remove germs in the water. it's a disinfectant. sometimes, we need to be disinfected.
disinfected from hopelessness.
cleansed from shallow perspectives.
washed of what is weighing us down.

we need to shed what we think we don't have and look around at all we do. and if you're like me, you need to physically be disinfected because i have mild flu-like symptoms that I pray would go away. (they totally did!) 

birds hum, lizards run across the pavement, and here I am, slathered in over-priced sunscreen with black shades on my face while my skin gets tanned—writing my little heart away. to God. to you. to anyone who will listen to what I have to say on my twenty-fifth birthday.

this year has been beautiful. heavy and light at the same time. blessed and filled with burdens simultaneously. i love my life and i still question if i’m doing alright. some days i’m ready to conquer the world. other days it feels like the world has conquered me. some days i look up at the palm trees hovering over me, sense the sweet breeze on my skin and fall in love with life all over again.

then, my thoughts get the best of me and i can’t help but want to lay in bed, far away from the world i love. oh, to be a woman in your 20's. i glance down at wide-eyed children, their whole lives ahead of them. i'm grateful for this moment that i get to be a part of their journey. i care for them like they're my own. i remember myself as a child. the comfort I needed. the encouragement i longed to hear. i see their needs and i meet them there. 

one lesson i'm pulling from twenty-four is that grief and gratitude can live side by side.

i have days where i grieve what i’ve lost. the years that have passed. i’m no longer a ten-year-old whose only care in the world was pizza rolls and what i was going to wear that day. i’m not sixteen anymore, with a boyfriend i thought i’d love forever, waiting for the world to unfold before me. i’m not in my youth. i’m an adult. and sometimes it scares me. other times it emboldens me.

i love being older and wiser, able to have a deeper and more appreciative view of life. i’m grateful, as the research says, that i have a fully developed brain. i can think how i'm supposed too, although it's slower than i'd like to admit.

i see the ways i have my life together and the ways i totally don’t.

i’m grateful for both.

i grieve what once was in some moments, but mostly i’m grateful for what is.

more knowledge, wisdom, strength, insight, and understanding is on the horizon.

so here i am on the edge of twenty-four, looking across water that’s still. someone jumps in and the ripples splash forth. much like my life, i can be still for a moment, then chaos comes crashing in.

chaos will come. the years passing me by are inevitable.

but i’m here. in this adult-hood moment- seeing it for what it is.

it’s me enjoying my life.

maybe twenty-five isn’t about having answers. maybe it’s about learning to carry both ache and hope.

God’s presence is close.

i’m close to Him.

His is the approval i seek.
His face will forever be the one captivating me.

“My heart says of you: seek his face! Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Psalm 27:8