I know it's coming. Most of the time it's out of mind, but then, seemingly from nowhere, a sudden chill goes down my spine. I turn my head and a shadow skirts out of view. Though I can't see it, I know it's there, lurking. Sometimes in the still dark of night, I feel it creep up behind me, breath on the back of my neck. But there's nothing I can do to stop its approach.

The big 4-0. 

OK, so I have a flair for the dramatic. I promise I'm not too worried about this new round number that will arrive a few weeks from now. In fact, since 4 is my favorite number, I already feel a fondness for this coming decade. 

I'm generally not one to think much about age. Sure, there have been a few key birthdays I anticipated. When I turned 16 I nervously began figuring out how to drive. When I turned 21, I looked forward to the server asking me for ID when I ordered a drink. (I didn't even like the taste of what I got, but it was supposed to be a thrill, you know?)

Even 30 didn't shake up my world too badly. Steve even threw me a surprise party. He concocted an event, complete with a faked invitation to tour a historical mansion with the Cincinnati Preservation Association. We got all dressed up but instead ended up at our church, where friends and family awaited me, all wearing fancy attire. He'd created an entire formal affair around a new dress I adored. A party themed around my outfit? What a husband! (Yet I'd still like to go tour that mansion someday.)

That said, I haven't freaked out (yet) that I'm turning 40 soon. Steve is the one who keeps bringing it up, asking how I feel. Well, I feel pretty youthful in spirit. Though some days, as I'm having new aches and pains I haven't felt before, perhaps this middle age nomenclature is feeling more apropos.

But I hear 40 is the new ___? People always have something to compare ages to. I found several funny ones online. But I like this one: 40 is the new 40. Yes, I'm good with that. I'll reclaim it, redefine it, make it my own. 

So bring it on, 40. I'm ready for you.

See also Wisdom Through the Ages, part 1 and part 2.

Photo by Ksenia Kudelkina on Unsplash

I hugged each of the six people leaving our house. As I closed the door behind them, I turned to my husband with a smile. "That was a wonderful afternoon."

From the outside it may have seemed an odd group for Steve and I to be a part of. These folks were a couple of decades older than us, most retired. We weren't related in any way, didn't live near one another. What drew us together was a family on the other side of the globe who needed our support, who waved at us as we huddled around a computer screen just a few hours earlier.

We are the board of Christian Mission for Myanmar. 

A board meeting sounds about as fun as its name. I can feel intimidated at these because I run the finances, yet I have very little experience evaluating or comparing numbers. I simply receive the money, keep track of the donating parties, send receipts. Oh, and I wire money regularly to a third-world country, which has gotten me permanently banned from using Western Union. (I'm such a rebel.)

But as much as I could feel unease by my lack of expertise, I came away from the day with a different feeling: inspiration. The stories shared as we broke bread together gave me a new perspective. These couples around my table had been to places I'd never heard of. They'd served the Kingdom in ways I hadn't imagined. And they are all determined to go above and beyond to help a family who lives a world away—all so that the family can continue sharing God's love in their home country of Myanmar. 

I've gotten to know these brothers and sisters in Christ over the past couple of years. Their consistent faith through tears of sorrow and tears of joy has given me strength. I am grateful we are now connected to one another. 

I'm fascinated by the people God brings into my path. This is just one example of the ways God adds new pieces to the puzzle of my life. Up close at times it seems like jumbled confusion, and the best I can do is cling to the interlocking pieces around me. But I step back and look at the beautiful picture He is forming. There is purpose and meaning I haven't yet discovered. 

See also Wisdom Through the Ages, part 1 and part 3.

Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster on Unsplash

There I sat in the too tiny chair at the low table, feeling like Alice in Wonderland when she ate the cake and grew too large for her surroundings. To my right was a little boy, awaiting my help to write his name at the top of his coloring page. To my left was a little girl, sniffing and wiping away tears with the back of her hand. Surrounding us was the clatter and chatter of a dozen other Pre-K children, playing with toys around the room while the two official leaders of this clan sat among them, playing, encouraging, and talking. 

I was there for work purposes. One of my new gigs as a freelancer involved a church who wanted me to observe these kiddos in order to write something for their ministry. There are two things you need to know about me:

1. My three sisters-in-law on the Carr side of the family all work in the preschool realm. My mother-in-law is a retired kindergarten teacher. One of these ladies is doing her own thing and doesn't fit with the rest of the family—that's me! Yet they love me anyway. And I am amazed by their care and skill and desire to shape young hearts. Tonight's time in the Pre-K room only solidified this great respect I have for them all. 

2. I was hesitant when my own child was this age. I sought out the aforementioned amazing women in my family when I had a preschooler in the house. It was all new territory, and I needed help navigating the landscape. But I surprisingly enjoyed that age of exploration and wonder more than I would have imagined. My daughter is now 11, so it's been a while since I've hung out with the preschool crowd. 

So I looked around, wondering if anyone else noticed my slight awkwardness in this setting. 

No one seemed to mind. The kids welcomed me right in. The little boy with the coloring page—he was more than happy to share a marker and allow my big-person handwriting to grace the top of his page. The sniffing girl? She was sad because it was her first time at this church, and she was scared. I told her it was my first time too. That didn't exactly break the ice, but she warmed to me later. And when three more kids came in as service was beginning to start, they didn't know I didn't truly belong here. They just assumed I was part of the regular crew. They started telling me about how they were cousins and they were having a slumber party that night, and we became fast friends. 

I had a blast with that preschool worship service. We sang. We danced. Cartoon critters on the screen shared some thoughts with us. Then we heard a part of God's story. It was one of my favorite services I've been to this summer. 

I went to observe, but I gained much more than research for a writing project. I was reminded of some important wisdom:

• It's OK to be silly and act crazy sometimes. It feels good. Don't worry about what other people think about you.

• Cartoon animals talking to you are pretty cool. 

• Sharing is hard, but it's not the end of the world. 

• Worshipping God is best when songs have motions you can do with your whole body.

• Everyone is welcome around the coloring table—no matter what you look like and even if you're a grownup that's too big for the chair. And if you ask the right questions, everybody at that table has a story, and they might just tell it to you. 

See also Wisdom Through the Ages, part 2 and part 3.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash