A Quarter of a Century

Today I turn 25.  A quarter of a century down.  According to today’s social climate, I should be just about starting to wrap up the party days of my early twenties and starting to think about what I really want with my life.  But I’ve never been one to follow the rules that society dictates.  

I’ve never been to a nightclub, never taken an illicit drug, barely touched alcohol.  I still don’t even have my ears pierced.  I have exactly zero qualifications and absolutely no personal income.  On my last tax return, my net income was -$430.  

And yet.  

The sum total of my experiences over the last 25 years has made me an incredibly rich and fulfilled woman.  I’ve spent those years living vibrantly.  Living life to the absolute full.  I’ve seen the view from the mountain tops and despaired in the shadows of the valleys.  

While the route that I’ve flown since leaving the nest of my parents has not developed the way I expected it to when I first spread my wings, it has led me to experience the richness and depth of the world in a way I could not have imagined.

At sixteen, I left the home that had nurtured me and flew to strange countries.  I spent time relishing my freedom and independence and discovering parts of who I was and how I fit into this big wide world.  I walked the streets of foreign places with just my phone and wallet in my pocket.  

I experienced what it’s like to be the richest person in the room.  I made friends that I still consider family, who are a different colour to me, speak a different language yet share the same heart and same humour.  Whose singular point of different was the place in which they were born.  That difference gave me access to education, healthcare and a myriad of personal choices and left them struggling for life.

I spent time holding the hands and looking into the faces of orphaned children, building rooms, cooking meals.  I learnt that the most valuable part of ‘volunteering’ is the change that it causes in you.

I felt the shock of returning to a culture that should feel familiar and instead feeling overwhelmed with disgust and despair.  

I’ve swum under waterfalls, walked along endless beaches and watched the sun both rise and set over the ocean.  And I did it all hand in hand with a man that I deeply loved.

And in the next moment, I held that man while the world crashed around him.  Felt his gut wrenching sobs rip through my body as he faced a lifetime of tomorrows without the sister that he loved.

I have encountered far more loss than a young heart can bear.  I’ve had to say goodbye to very loved friends who left before I was ready.  I just wasn’t ready.  Each one of them tore my heart and left its scar.  I’ve sat in funeral after funeral as my heart learnt how it was going to handle grief.  And I’ve spent many years trying to undo those lessons.

I faced depression, or more to the point, I tried to run from it.  I’ve endured days, weeks, months, years, where the struggle to keep myself alive was very real.  Where I came so close to failing.  I’ve walked, alone, through the darkness believing it to be the only reality that ever existed.  Then somehow, miraculously, I found light.

I’ve held the hands of the only man I’ve ever kissed, promising to honour him, love him and remain faithful to him for all my life.  And I’ve spent nearly seven years working on that promise.  Crafting a life with him, sharing my days with him and dreaming about our future together.

Together we have cleared our path forward, constantly re-evaluating our needs and our future and making bold changes when necessary.  We have moved home, moved cities and even states.  I have experienced beginning afresh in a new place.  Time after time. 

I know what it’s like to have nothing, to count the coins to make sure they match the item, to scrape together a meal with the last remaining things in my cupboard.  I know what it’s like to be cold, to pray for warm clothes. In those times, I have experienced God’s provision.  I have watched him come through when we truly needed it.

With my husband by my side, I have created a family.  I welcomed a son into the world, enduring the discomfort of pregnancy, the pain of childbirth and the marvel of a new human.  And I loved that little human and the family we created so much, that I went back for more.  

In the early days of my motherhood, I went back to study.  I spent three years balancing my work life with my family, working long night shifts and driving far too tired to return to children who needed my attention.  I spent many hours, rewriting an assignment over and over, until I was happy with it.  I experienced what it was like to pour my time and energy into academia, and to be recognised for it.  

And then, I experienced the turmoil of making choices about my priorities.  I chose to give up things I love for things I love even more.  I experienced the harsh truth behind what society values as I became overlooked.  It turns out that ‘stay at home mum’ and ‘unqualified’ are two labels which deem me both unimportant and uninteresting.

Yet that sacrifice opened up the opportunity to witness beauty and life unfurl in front of me as I entered life fully with my children.  I was beside them as they learned to walk, as they learned to count and to read.  I’ve experienced how the freedom of an engaged and fully present mind allows me to explore the world with wonder alongside each of my babies.

The pendulum of parenting continues to swing though.  I’ve experienced times of frustration, of bewilderment and despair.  I’ve listened to the heartbeat of the child inside my womb, holding my breath, waiting for the next one to come.  I’ve watched my son scream in terror as the doctors try to sedate him for testing, praying for the possibility of a brain tumour to be refuted.  I’ve been blessed that those experiences in my parenting journey thus far have been brief.  The fear and agony are indescribable.  

I’ve stood with people, holding their hand, stroking their head, as they welcomed life into their family.  I’ve also stood with some as they watched life slip away.  Both are opposing ends of the same spectrum and both have inspired in me a deep appreciation of life, of breath, of fragility.

Through these experiences, I have witnessed and been a part of the kingdom of heaven being spread through the earth. I have housed many people under my roof who were not flesh and blood, training and encouraging them. I have walked beside young people as they’ve poured out their hearts, faced hurt and discovered their futures. I have given generously and experienced the generosity of others, even complete strangers. I have laughed as I pushed a $50 note into the hand of an older man in the grocery store and I’ve cried as I received a $50 note pushed into mine as I tried to settle my newborn son in the dark in a parking lot. I have learnt that though there is darkness in the world, there is also radiant light. And it shines from individuals. It’s individual people, one at a time, that dispel the darkness.

And so, at 25 years of age, I have a wonderful husband, four beautiful children, a mortgage and an incredible history rich with experiences. These are a gift I’ve been blessed with. They allow me to look into people’s hearts and understand, because I’ve been there. I’ve been the working mum, the stay at home mum, the kindy mum and the homeschool mum. I’ve experienced joy and purpose and sorrow and terror and deep deep darkness and blazing light. I’ve been the teacher and the student, acknowledged and invisible, been in poverty and abundance, and I’m so much richer for it. A quarter of a century lived, and I’ve been so blessed by the wonderful, rich tapestry of my past.

Philippians 4:12-13
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. ¹³ I can do all this through him who gives me strength.