“I grow old…I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled…”
(T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”)
Fitting. I do grow old. And I’m wearing cuffed jeans. From Old Navy.
I think it’s really weird saying I’m 19. I need to practice saying it before I start accidentally lying about my age.
I got kidnapped on my birthday. I’m not even kidding. The Vickster called me and announced that I needed to get ready to go out. She then oh-so-smoothly persuaded me into her car and commanded me to blindfold myself. I don’t think that’s how kidnapping is supposed to work, but it’s comforting to know that if it ever possessed Vicky to really commit such a crime it would fail miserably. Anyways, I sort of guessed where we were going, because I had been complaining about the lack of traditional CCF IHOP trips this semester. But that still didn’t take away from the shock of being led blindfolded into a mysterious building (I’m amazed I didn’t trip over anything), seated on a chair that Vicky promised was really there, and then having my sight miraculously restored to reveal all of CCF sitting at a table full of pancake syrup and menus, singing “Happy Birthday”. I blinked several times in surprise. And not just because my contacts were blurry from having my eyes closed the whole drive over.
Two weeks ago, Dave promised that we really would go to IHOP at some point. Brian and Julia kept saying we could go “later”.
Ah, strawberry Nutella crepes. How long I have waited for you. I’m glad my friends *ahem* keep their promises.
I love these guys. As my roommate Annie would say, “I love them with a happy smiling heart.”
Speaking of roommates, my lovely apartment-mates all surprised me too, with a gigantic cake with pink frosting and a birthday wish in cursive yellow letters. Maybe it’s because this never happened when I was growing up, but I always get really excited when I see my name on a cake. It’s like…a personalized tote bag (good thing). With sugar.
Speaking of things having nothing to do with sugar, my sweet mom and brothers sent me a package. I am yet again amazed by my dear mother -she managed to find exactly what I asked for even though it was in style like two years ago: a thermal with THUMBHOLES. Happiness.
I spent a while reading my favorite chapter in the Bible this morning: Isaiah 43. It never gets old, and God definitely gave me a fresh set of eyes to read this passage with today. In the first few verses, Jehovah God says how I am His own, how nothing will ever happen that He won’t see me through, how He’s made me for His glory. I’ve spent a lot of time this semester stressing out, getting tangled in the past, being unable to move on. And God’s assurance that every bit of life is noticed and redeemable, that I don’t need to “consider the old” because He has new stories to write was so incredible, peaceful.
I’m ready for this new year, Lord. To learn how to truly experience Your presence through the fire and the floods and the blue skies, everything.
I’m ready for the new that You’ll bring, moving past the old.
I’m so glad I’m Yours.