Things I miss.

Reflections at 43 years young.

A few days ago, I asked my 7-year-old the age I am turning today. Such a fact is a particularly average piece of information for my brain to retain; therefore, it doesn’t. My brain grasps onto things that are interesting, emotionally loaded or unimportant to everyone else. Unimportant things become fascinating points of discussion when you discover a solid reason to return to them! My rapidly changing age isn’t unimportant, just boring! Let me know when I’m about to hit half a century…..

Celebrating with huge intentionality is a bit daunting. Energy still comes in waves, and I might not be up to what I planned in a previously ‘excited moment’. It could be an expensive mistake! Nonetheless, it’s a day I find myself remembering as I go about a mostly normal day by myself. Today I’m struck with this thought: the older I get, the more I have available to miss. How I posture myself while remembering determines whether I am pulled up or down. Whether it’s really a birthday or the beginning of a funeral!

A birthday treat - I went to get my eyebrows done - shaped and tinted. I don’t know when this started being something I would spend our minimal discretionary income on. When I was a teenager and into my 20’s, I did my own eyebrow shaping. I also lived in Auckland where the traffic is RIDICULOUS. I kept tweezers in the car and would do my eyebrows in the rear vision mirror at traffic lights. I often wore make-up, so if I really wanted everyone to see the eyes, I’d sort it out. Somewhere along the way I ran out of time. There were no more traffic lights. I now have a teenager who steals my tweezers. I decided that the world could handle my natural face.

I miss knowing where to go.

It’s a funny thing to have multiple places that you refer to as ‘home’. Every time I move away from the last one, I HATE losing my sense of autopilot. Gratefully, we now have Google Maps. But where do you go for sushi? I’m a creature of comfort, and I don’t like trying new things over and over again. I want safety - reliability - wrapped in seaweed. Today I went to the place that always has a huge queue out the door at lunchtime. A place I only ever drive past, today I was grateful to know how to get there without using a map! Progress.

I’m still working out where to get my eyebrows done. Today she asked me, “what colour do you want?” Me - always thinking with my mouth - “I don’t know. Make them match my hair. Not the grey ones - the other ones.”

I miss my people.

You know - those ones. The ones that see all the highs and lows and know it’s the same you. They walk into your house because they know you can’t be bothered answering the door. They can handle anybody who decided not to wear clothes today. They know whether you’re drinking wine or needing to stay away from it. They know you’re keto or binge eating. Those were the friends of pretty remarkable seasons and it’s hard when seasons change. It’s not bad, just different when we can no longer share the door code because I have to pick them up from the airport first. Thank goodness we stopped having front door keys and a collection session each time we moved! We are blessed with many of these friends.

I miss homeschooling. That’s weird. I was terrified to homeschool, and then I hurled (fell or leapt) into it. It wasn’t easy, but we did it. And now our homeschool exemption has expired because he has been enrolled at school beyond 10 weeks. He finishes at 2 pm every day, and last Friday he got his first school certificate. Dad dropped everything to see it because honestly, we weren’t sure our youngest would ever be able to manage returning to mainstream school. Going to school isn’t a sign of success; continuing to stand in a world you find hard and confusing is. The success is found in the community that has stood around him. I kiss Mataio so hard when he runs out the back gate to school. I am going to miss that quiet hour with him when he soon finishes at 3 pm and returns home with his whirlwind of siblings.

It’s easy to feel lonely when I (again) have so much time (to pack in millions of things) while all the flat mates are off at school. It’s easy to let the remembering pull me down. It’s easy to remember what birthdays used to be like.

I miss ‘all freedom and no responsibility’.

Hannah and I didn’t have boyfriends. We weren’t particularly into alcohol. We were Jesus-lovers who loved to dance. And once you finish studying dance, it’s pretty hard to find somewhere to channel that. We went clubbing. We went early - when the DJ was starting up at about 8.30 pm. No one else was drunk and bold enough to take the dance floor. It was all ours. We owned it. When the DJ put on a stupid song, we would take a drink of water. A banger track would follow! And once the alcohol began fueling courage around us, it was home time. Bed by 10.30 pm. A solid dopamine hit and still functioning the next day. I miss that.

43 years young. That’s the playlist I created today. The kitchen is my club.

I miss easy church.

I’ve been blessed with 40 years of church community, which wasn’t perfect, but it was good. For the most part, it was easy. The best bits were incredible; life encountering truth, reflecting and offering Christ, together in our imperfection. I assumed it was easy to get that sort of community because I had always fallen into it and had ridden out the highs and the lows with the people around me.

Then the next 3 years happened, and it wasn’t all bad. But you have to leave the wrong place to be at the right one. The way we left hurt. I miss the parts of that season that were good - a lot of people. However, my glasses aren’t rose-tinted; none of those 3 years was ‘easy church.’

I sense that I sit poised on the edge; of another year, on another season of easy church. Of being fully healed from the trauma that I can’t articulate. Of being able to trust again. Edges are dangerous places because it’s easy to fall off them. It’s possible to be wrong. But healthy fear? I stand on the edge with that. With Him. With life that has encountered truth. And then I dance like the people trying to get drunk are watching. Because I remember - the old me was fearless.