What is it about birthdays? I fall asleep one age and wake up another, and the day takes on a life of its own that feels different than the rest. You, too?

I’ve heard many adults say it’s “just another day,” but that’s not really how I feel about it. Just as with the new year in January and the start of a school year each September, a birthday feels like a fresh start to me. Let’s call it capitalizing on an opportunity—I can always use a fresh start.

It wasn’t until last year that I asked for time for my birthday, and Jason has been gracious enough to oblige. I don’t have any major agenda today except to sit quietly, to write and pray, and to reflect with gratitude on another year on this beautiful, magnificent, captivating planet. THIS is a gift.

In this stage of life and motherhood, I’m not sure I sit still or quiet often enough, but I ought to try. As a newer tradition then, I throw all guilt out the window as best I can on my birthday and I just GO. If I’m honest with myself, this “just go” mentality isn’t an easy one for me, and I’m wrestling that afresh these days. I’m grateful to Jason for his kind nudge.

It isn’t that I think I should be able to simply drop my responsibilities and throw caution to the wind with regularity (and today isn’t that). But even getting myself out of the house and putting down my role as mom and wife and teacher for a little while has gotten harder over time. It’s the result of a lot of factors, really, but I’ve lost myself a bit in motherhood, and I’m coming to terms with this in the quiet spaces when I do steal away.

I didn’t think I’d be here, actually. It just sort of happened. Maybe if you’re in the midst of young motherhood, you can relate. Or maybe you remember those days when your kids were young and your identity was largely based in the young family you were raising and the lives that depended on you 24/7. The past year has surprised me in a lot of ways—not the least of which is how our littlest is moving out of the toddler stage and approaching three. I didn’t imagine I wouldn’t be changing tiny diapers or still nursing or juggling infant gear by now, but I’m holding our baby’s hand instead of carrying him more and more; I’m soaking in every possible snuggle and bedtime rocking session with the awareness that I might not revisit this sweet stage again. I turn the lights out on another day, and as I slowly close the door to his room I wonder where the time has gone and who we’re becoming now…who I’m becoming as my babies grow.

What is God calling me to in this season where everything is changing and I’m finally picking up on the fact that the ground has shifted under my feet?

I have thoughts about where 37 will take me—where God will lead me as He offers each day as a gift not to be assumed, but savored. I don’t want to take things for granted, and I’m learning (yet again) that His story for me always turns out better than the one I continue to try writing for myself. I want to fit so many pieces into the puzzle so I can see it all clearly, and God keeps handing me just one fragment at a time—for good reason.

I may be a year older, and I *might* be a tad wiser, but I have far to go. Leaning in and listening closely is perhaps the best way for me to let plans unfold. Though I love every bit of being a mom to young kiddos, God is reminding me that my motherhood is best served when I don’t forget who I was before diapers and homeschool and all that’s come with parenting for me. I’m working on making space for life-giving passions (like writing and doula work) that aren’t mutually exclusive, because God keeps nudging me there.

It’s scary to let go and it’s scary to pick things back up, too, but it’s probably time. So I’m nervous, but not afraid. I’m hopeful and curious and anxious for what’s next. I think there’s more on the horizon to share, and that gets me excited—even with just a few pieces of the puzzle in view.

Here’s to 37, and to each of us growing into who we’re called to be, a little more, every day.

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