28

I was just trying to survive 27. There wasn’t a plan, I was trying to make it through each day and week. Around the time I turned 27 I felt like I was unraveling, coming completely undone. I buried dreams and desires. My reality felt impossible. But I kept moving forward. I knew eventually I would be okay. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when. But I trusted, I believed, I would be okay again someday. I could look back on my life and see how this has always been true. It didn’t make it easier, it just made it possible. One day the deep aches of my heart and mind would subside and I would be okay once more.

As 2022 began, I finally felt okay again. After months of resting. After months of praying. After months of fighting for me, I finally began to feel okay again. I breathed deep in the midst of this secure and steady place. Grateful to see, once again, the way God brought me through.

And now? Now I face 28. And 28 feels like hope. Hope for that which is better and brighter than I had dreamed of before. Hope that my tears watered the soil of whatever will bloom next in my heart and in my life. And while there is great joy in hoping once more it still seems scary. What if it all falls apart again? What if it’s another year of doors slammed in my face? What if the answer to every question is no? How could it possibly be safe to hope again?

But I know God to be good. I know God to be faithful. Even when I have hoped and found myself in pain, God has been present. So I choose to hope. To dream. To believe that this really will be the best year yet. I’m another year older. Another year wiser. Another year more sure of the goodness of God.

I’m not entirely sure of all I want to dream and hope for in year 28. But I know that as I pray and dream that there are so many dear friends who are doing so right alongside of me. Those who have sat with me on the worst days and will be ready with confetti poppers on the best days. Truly it is a gift to be so deeply known and loved.

So I’m glad 28 feels like hope. A fresh start. A year of new things, I just don’t know what they are. I’ll look for light. I’ll look for joy. I will sit with sorrow as it comes, but I know that I can look to the horizon, looking for the new day dawning. And that’s what this hope of 28 has felt like. Sitting in the dark of the night, mug of coffee in hand, beginning to watch the sunrise and illuminate all that’s ahead of me. And I am deeply grateful.

Soulmates? Maybe not...

Do you believe in soulmates? It isn’t a question I get asked often. And yet this month I spent two weeks talking about just that. Maybe it’s because Valentine’s was fast approaching. Maybe it was just up on the docket of conversations to be had. So, I decided to really sit with the question. To think about what it meant and what it meant to me. I would rather sit with something that feels uncomfortable instead of avoiding it.

I spent two weeks listening to what other people thought while I let my own thoughts swirl in my brain, occasionally adding an idea or question to what was being said. And I have decided that I don’t believe in soulmates. Or at least not in the way most people would define the term. When most people hear ‘soulmate’ they think of a romantic partner, that one person you are made for and meant to be with. And it sounds nice, but I find it incredibly limiting. What do we say about people who lose a spouse and get remarried? What about those who remain single - whether it’s by choice or not? How can this definition of soulmate apply to them? How does one hope or live their life always in search of ‘the one’? Maybe soulmate just needed a different definition if I was going to use it.

As I write this I am not married and I am not dating anyone. And there is still a deep richness in my life because of the relationships I do have. Singleness has not made my life less than or subpar, in no way do I lack love. Often it seems that outside observers believe that I must be missing something without a romantic partner, but I am here to say that isn’t true. I have friendships that have withstood the test of time and distance. Friendships that have made me a better woman. And for these friendships I am deeply grateful.

Could these friends be my soulmates? Instead of a romantic partner, what if I have friends who have decided to show up and stick with me, no matter what comes our way? Perhaps my friends are my soulmates through this gift of commitment and consistency. Maybe, just maybe, a soulmate is someone who adds to my life in a rich and meaningful way. So at the end of the day I’ve got a few soulmates. A handful of people who add incredible value to my life. Who refresh and recharge my weary soul. Who cheer me on and catch me when I fall. Shifting the definition and shifting the mindset behind it opens up new possibilities.

My marital status should not be the determining factor in whether I have people committed to doing life with me. People who are deeply invested in me and I in them. And that seems to be what people think soulmates are about “one person to journey through life with.” Even if a romantic partner comes along, I do not want to abandon or devalue these friendships that have already been such an important part of my life. As a single woman I don’t get left behind or forgotten. Who I am right now is seen and honored. And that matters. These friends I would call soulmates matter. These relationships matter and don’t have to be devalued because they aren’t romantic.

And perhaps that is the bigger issue in this conversation for me. Not that romantic soulmates don’t exist. But by claiming that they do, all these incredible friendships are, often, seen as a cheap substitute until I can stumble upon “the real thing.” And that simply is not the case. I have already found the real thing. I am already living with the benefits of a soulmate. Friends who pour into my life, making it far richer than I could have ever dreamed. And I am incredibly grateful for them. And I want others to benefit as well. So I say that we all spend some time investing in friendships. Focus on some of the gifts right in front of us instead of simply trying to find ‘the one.’

I've decided to celebrate instead

January is not my favorite month. It’s cold and still fairly dark out, neither of which I love.

January is also when everyone decides to hit the reset button, to make changes, create goals,

and become a whole new person. There isn’t anything necessarily wrong with any of those

things. But what frustrates me is how January seems to be a constant reminder to hate my

body. I scroll through social media as people talk about the healthy habits they want to have. I

get push ads for gyms, fitness apps, detoxes, and anything else designed to make me thin and

pretty. And I think about all the Januarys I wanted that. Each new year beginning with me

wishing, hoping, and praying that this would be the year I would get it right, finally I would be on

track to be thin. And then it wouldn’t happen. I would fail and be so angry and disappointed in

myself. Adding to all the hate and shame I already felt. But January would come around again

and I would find myself still hoping and dreaming of the day I would be thin and all the benefits

that would give me.

I placed so much hope in this desire to be thin. I honestly thought it would solve all of my

problems. If I were thin I would be pretty. I’d be loved, I’d be wanted. People would want to be

my friend. I wouldn’t have so many reasons to hate myself. Losing weight was the clear solution

to all of my problems.

Until it became clear that it wasn’t. The year after I graduated from college I did pretty well with

my weight loss plan. I was exercising. I was counting calories. I was being complimented and

cheered on. And at first I was so excited. With every pound lost there was hope that my life

would improve. But it didn’t. In so many ways I was unhealthy at that time in my life. I remember

how excited I would get when I got the notification that I hadn’t consumed enough calories for

the day. And friends, that wasn’t okay. And it wasn’t healthy. And it wasn’t loving towards my

body. While I am grateful that restrictive eating didn’t last much past that year, it took longer to

delete the tracking app, and longer to deal with the shame and hatred that came with it.

I didn’t love myself or my body. Instead I was continually shaming her. Telling her she deserved

to be punished, simply for existing and showing up as she was. And I lived a lot of my life that

way. It has taken time to love my body, to speak kindly to her. To feed her well. To exercise as a

form of celebration, not as a punishment.

So I’ve decided that this year I want to celebrate all my body has done and can do. And I want

to encourage you to do the same, especially if you’re not a big fan of January either. For me this

is a far better way to start the year, to celebrate what has been done in order to prepare for

whatever may come in the future. So here’s my list, or at least the start of it.

My body has enabled me to:

- Hug my friends and family. Holding them in joy and in sorrow.

- Cook meals for myself and others.

- Dance simply because dancing is the best.

- Laugh. At really dumb jokes, funny stories, and everything in between.

- Cry. Tears of pain and excitement because both are a necessary and holy thing.

- Breathe. Something simple but with asthma that just isn’t always the case.

- Run a half marathon which felt impossible but ended up being so empowering.

- Shake hands. To meet people, to make them feel welcome.

- Place my hands on another person’s shoulder, to pray, to say that we’re in this together.

- Receive communion. To remember that Christ died so I may live and live abundantly.

- Set up tables and chairs in order to foster community.

- Take out the trash in order to serve those around me.

- Clean dishes, bathrooms, bedrooms, and living rooms for my benefit and the benefit of

others.

- Ears to listen to all that has been told to me. Stories filled with joy, sorrow, and the

everyday.

- A body that lets me be physically present, on good days and bad, for people when they

just need to know someone is there for them.

My body has carried me through so much. Endured so much. Even when I was the one causing

her harm. This list is simply the beginning. Giving my body recognition she deserves. She’s

carried me through so much and I am choosing to love her for it. And I hope you are able to see

all that your body has carried you through. And if you need some help seeing it for yourself, truly

I would love nothing more than to sit with you and figure out all you can celebrate. So here’s to

loving our bodies and loving ourselves more each day. There is beauty to be found in who we

are right now.