September might as well be called Celebratember in our family (except that would be a mouthful). It is filled with birthdays and all of the fun that comes with them. It kicks off with our oldest nephew's birthday, followed by our oldest niece. Another nephew, me, and my husband follow.
The month of celebration is especially nice after a summer during which two close family members left us to go to heaven. Lots of balloons and party hats and candles and smiling children can't help but bring a little joy.
The only slight wrinkle in the September bliss was my birthday. The celebration itself (over the weekend since I had a Sunday birthday) was lovely—a family trip to the zoo, eating out (for free!) at several favorite restaurants, dessert fondue with great girlfriends, cheesecake with family members, opening presents and cards—but it struck me as that birthday when I had to be grown up for good. Yep, I'm now 30.
I mentioned this to my husband. His response? I am pretty much already grown up if I am married and have a child. No turning back on this grown-up thing now, I guess. Still, it seems my 20s were still sort of "young." And it is when so many big, exciting things happened in my life—college graduation, the launching of my career, engagement, marriage, my son's birth, new friends. It feels to me as if that particular "young" chapter in my life is closed (which it is) and I am officially old (please don't snicker, people who are much older than me :-).
A few days after I turned 30, life seemed a whole lot less grim. I didn't feel really that old (although I do have plenty of gray hair). I felt like life was fresh with possibilities.
Exciting new things continue to happen in my life, regardless of my big birthday. My family is healthy and happy and wonderful. God is good and gracious and faithful, no matter how old I am. And that fills me with all the joy a 30-year-old heart can hold.
3 hours ago