For a few years, each birthday I’ve blogged about how I’m feeling about the new age I’m in. I’m a little late on this one, but here it goes.
I’ve noticed 44 is usually the last number on surveys and paperwork before a new age bracket begins.
It’s a small step forward to being closer to 50 than 40.
But for me, 44 isn’t a bad year to embrace.
I’m looking forward to the future while contending for it.
I’m believing God for promises He sealed to be delivered long before I was born.
I’m long past the longing for a baby to hold as my own, and starting to look forward to the day when I hear I’m going to be a grandmother (from Tom’s older children, when they are both married.)
We’re looking for a home that will be our last.
The place where kids graduate and move on.
Where we retire.
Where we entertain our kids and their families.
But first, there’s the now.
Entering new writing projects filled with hope and promise.
Waiting on other writing projects but coming to terms with it.
Trying new things, including a haircut my stylist based, of all people, on Miley Cyrus.
And I wear that hair, with the same attitude I wear 44.