Somehow, when I was a little girl, I thought that turning 40 would feel different,
waaaaaaay older.
And frankly, last year when I actually did turn 40 I was feeling a bit
off (ish).
(I wasn’t really sad to turn 40, but turning 40 years old, for most people, it’s the halfway mark between life and death
and that can feel
scary
if you let it.)
Mind you, I didn’t
and don’t
feel old.
As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I felt way older when I was just barely 30 and had 6 young children in my home and I was just exhausted every day.
Happy exhausted, but exhausted none-the-less.
Now, at 41 I feel twenty-six.
(I’m not silly or naive enough to say I feel younger than that because honestly, I would have to be both silly and naive for that to be so 
)
Life is just
rich
and full
and promising.
At 30, I had faith
but I didn’t have faith.
I had God
but I didn’t have God.
I had riches
but I wasn’t rich.
Now, at 41,
I am smart enough to measure life’s treasures not by what is in the bank
but instead by what is in my home,
my heart,
my life.
And I am rich
beyond measure.
And 41 doesn’t feel as bleak as what I thought it would feel like.
Instead,
41 feels pretty damn good.
