I turned 37 a little while ago. I was enjoying it so much that I'd almost forgotten all about "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" - arguably one of the most depressing songs ever recorded. You know the one from "Thelma and Louise" which was used to encapsulate every disappointment and frustration either one had experienced. Experiences which culminated in driving themselves off a cliff.
"At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
ride through Paris in a sports car,
ride through Paris in a sports car,
with the warm wind in her hair."
Ughh. I remember hearing this song growing up and again, as a young woman, watching Thelma and Louise, thinking how tragic it would be to reach 37 and to have never had that Paris/sports car experience.
On my birthday, however, with a sudden, happy acknowledgement, I realised that I didn't need that kind of experience to feel fulfilled or validated at 37. Phew.
My immaturity in my 20's had convinced me that to feel like a worldly, substantial, achieving woman, I would have had to have had that sort of experience, or at least something very similar e.g. running with the bulls in Spain, a carriage ride through Central Park, skiing in Gstaad. A result, I'm sure, of reading too much Jackie Collins and Danielle Steele as a teenager.
Happily, I have been fortunate enough to have been surrounded by fantastic, awe-inspiring women who all just happen to have a faith in God. As a maturing adult, I would look at these women and think "I want some of that". "That" being a sense of being complete in Christ, needing no external validation from people, possessions or impressive travel experiences. I put down Jackie Collins and picked up more fulfilling books by Phillip Yancy, Francine Rivers and, of course, the Bible. I still love chick lit (Jilly Cooper is my fav), but I'm glad that I no longer base my life expectations on it.
I still struggle with being a flawed person who can be less than gracious with the frustrations of daily life. I'm still a bit put out by the shape of my thighs and the cow licks in my hair. And when I get to the Pearly Gates, fully intend on having a stern word about epilepsy in my children. However, I am grateful for the many, many blessings I do have which are not made invalid because I haven't driven through Paris in a sports car.
So, whilst I drive the Bongo Bus and not a sports car and the only warm wind I feel in my hair some days is the air expelled from the mouth of a screaming toddler, I can still happily say - Happy 37th to me!!
Hope you have a lovely weekend,
Meredith xo.
Lovely linking day with the Inspired Room's Beautiful Life Series. If you have the time, I would encourage you to visit the other blogs that link up - they're just gorgeous. Have fun.
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