Thirty.

I'm turning thirty soon, and no one is more shocked about it than me.  My younger sister turned 27 on November 2nd, and I kept wondering how that could be possible, since I was convinced that I was also 27. "How can Abby be 27 if I am 27?" I sat very still for a few minutes trying to figure out how both of us could be the same age when up to this point I have always been three years older.  Then, as I registered myself for a class at the YMCA later that day, my registration page accosted me with the news that, according to her birthdate, Hannah J. Bemis is 29 years old.  WHAT.

For the last three years on my birthday, my parents have commented on my Facebook page that "having a ___ -year-old daughter makes [them] feel so old."  This does not exactly make me feel young.  I remember when my parents were in their thirties.  I remember what they were doing, who they were friends with, what they had accomplished.  I keep asking myself if I have accomplished the same things, or more, or less.  Sometimes it drives me a little bit crazy.  My inner thoughts: "I don't really have a career yet, but I don't care about that.  Wait, is it fine that I don't care about that?  I should probably care more... it actually bothers me that I don't care more about that.  Okay, now I care.  I am officially caring about this now." On the topic of careers, wasn't it somewhere around age 30 that Jesus did all of his ministry on earth?  How is anyone supposed to compete with that!?

Aside from these mental/spiritual concerns, I have a whole new set of 30-year-old body concerns.  I have strange aches and pains after working out and after other activities such as sitting still and sleeping.  Sometimes holding my bladder is more of a struggle than it should be.  Sometimes I can't get up off the couch without letting out a small groan, like an old man. Sometimes I feel tired all the time.  I have a sneaking suspicion that many of these issues stem not from my age, but from my children.  Nevertheless, sometimes I spend too many minutes comparing signs of aging on my face with other people in my graduating class (Reason #227 why Facebook is a stinker.  I just said stinker, proving that I am a senior citizen). There are new, foreign little crinkles (not yet wrinkles, but "crinkles") at the corners of my eyes that weren't there three years ago.  Related question: when will I age out of acne?

I don't know how to dress a thirty-year-old body.  I'm starting to suspect that much of my wardrobe is age-inappropriate.  I read a fashion blog a young woman wrote about how no one over the age of 25 should shop in stores like H&M and Forever 21, and I felt very sad.  Am I relegated to department store women's sections now?  When will I be too old to shop at the Gap (maybe not for awhile...I recently read another blog about how Gap jeans are the new "Mom Jeans." Maybe I should stop reading fashion blogs (these are the only two fashion blogs I have ever read)). Where am I supposed to shop now?  J. Jill?  Lerners?  Someone direct me, please.  But keep in mind that my clothing budget actually does resemble a teenager's (see above where I mention I don't have a career).

I have an extremely unrealistic idea that I am the same age as every college student that I meet. I tutor on the Gonzaga University campus, and I like to imagine that I seamlessly blend in with all of the youthful faces surrounding me. We are basically the same, these cherubs and me, except I have no idea what "Snap-Chat" is, and they have no idea what "Dial-up internet" is. I am in solid denial that I am now 12 years older than a college freshman.

On a related note, it has recently been brought to my attention that my husband is elderly.  As proof, please observe his Christmas list:

• Underwear
• Socks
• Fingernail clippers
• Sensodyne
• Tweezers
• Flossers
• Work shirts
• Waffle maker
• Tide sport
• T shirts
• Drill

We're gonna have a rousing 2016.  

I can't even get away from the topic of aging when I read my Bible.  Last week I was reading Hosea Chapter 7, when Hosea is describing the unfaithful Israelites. "Worshiping foreign gods has sapped their strength, but they don't even know it.  Their hair is gray, but they don't realize they're old and weak" (vs. 9, NLT).  Next to this verse, I wrote the question: "Does serving God help us to age well?" I initially meant the question facetiously, but then I remembered a conversation I had with my mom when she visited a month ago.  I was sharing with her how astounded I am when I see pictures of myself looking much younger, only five years ago. I told her how weird it is to see pictures of myself today with those funny crinkly lines around my eyes.  

Today: crinkles

Five years ago: no crinkles. (Happy Thanksgiving!)

My mom agreed with me that she could see the difference in both Jordan and I, could see that these past five years of child bearing and child rearing have aged us a little bit.  But she said she could see that we had aged well.  Specifically, she said "You two have aged like people who have been loved well over the years." She explained that there is a different "look" about people who have been loved well by their spouses, by their families, by God.  The years still show on their faces, but there's a certain joy and contentment that also show, that cut through the years.  And I'm starting to see what she means.  I can look around me at people who are my age and see who has loved and been loved well (and who hasn't).  It's written on their faces.  Hard experiences tend to age us more quickly, but I'm observing how love can override both age and experience.  I have friends who struggle to get from paycheck to paycheck, who seem to get thrown some of life's hardest challenges, and yet they appear much younger than their age because they've held tightly to God and to their families.  They've let love cut through the harshness of the years, so their age shows in a softer, more kind way. The opposite is also true.  I can think of several people who have chosen to live lives without faith, without Jesus, without Love.  They often appear older than their actual years say they are.  

But this makes sense, right?  Jesus calls Himself the living water.  If this is true, won't our spirits just dry up without Him?  And if our spirits are dry, it's only a matter of time before our bodies follow suit.  In Jesus, we find the legendary fountain of youth.  When we choose Him, we become eternal beings, and that can't help but show, even in our temporal bodies.  So the answer to my question of whether serving God helps us to age well is an unequivocal YES.  Yes, choosing Jesus leads us to a lighter burden, an easier yoke, and even when the years and trials of life start to etch themselves into our faces and bodies, we can rest in the knowledge that we've been loved well, and that Love will etch itself into us even more deeply.

In all seriousness, (Jordan's Christmast list aside) I know that I'm not old yet.  Jordan and I have some of our best and greatest adventures in front of us; of this I am certain.  Part of choosing Jesus meant that I chose Jordan, and both of those guys have truly loved me well.  There's no one I'd rather spend this side of eternity with.  In celebration of our love, I think we're going to go eat waffles, floss our teeth and brush with Sensodyne, and go to bed early.  Goodnight!