When I mentioned to my church Bible study group that my birthday was coming up, I also told them I was turning 24. The leader half-smiled and said, “Usually I ask women if they’re turning 25… but I guess that’s not really a compliment at your age.”
Still, here I am, solidly in my mid-twenties, watching teenager-dom drift further and further away (thank goodness). It’s been seven years since I graduated, four years since I first started traveling, and eight months since I got married. It’s been a year of great change for me as I struggle to adjust to a new way of life, find the balance between housewife and adventurer, and learn what it means to be a wife of noble character.
My special day was fairly quiet: I spent the morning with some friends who were visiting from Oklahoma, then ate pizza with Zachary, my dad, and my two brothers. Zachary took me to the mall, where we walked in laps around the loop of stores, savoring the air conditioning. He led me into the store Ross and patiently waited while I rooted through their dresses, filling his arms with maybes. He ended up buying me two dresses and some frozen yogurt. Back at home we took a nap, watched The Incredibles, and topped off the night by reading a chapter of Art and the Bible by Francis Schaeffer together.
The years are slipping by more quietly than they have in the past. Years ago, I felt the need to announce my birthday with crazy water-balloon parties and copious amounts of cake. Now, I feel like a year is very little time. A birthday is worth noting, and worth celebrating, but it’s not the grand event it once was. And, most of the time, that’s okay with me.