- My roommate is getting married and moving out; therefore, my living situation is changing. As a matter of fact, several friends have announced they are either engaged or preggers in the last few months. Ugh. Happiness for them, indeed, but change nonetheless.
- One of my recently established soul sisters moved out of the country. Sometimes you cross paths with people in life who were made to be insta-friends with you. It sucks when you both realize your kindred spirits only weeks before she obediently follows God's call to serve Him in Paris for a year. Happiness for her + Sadness for me = A hot mess of emotions all at one time.
- At Christmas, I noticed for the first time that my grandmother is truly getting feeble and older—and actually looks and acts it now. My heart broke as she hobbled around the kitchen and shied away from any sort of extra-curricular activity for fear of breaking a bone.
- I had strategically planned and mapped out my parents' future since I've lived here. My mom retires in May, my dad can move his ministry to Tennessee, and we'll all happily be together again. My mom recently informed me they probably aren't going to be taking that course of action. That means I get to live in a foreign land all by myself while my family gets to enjoy each other in Texas FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES! I know—maybe that's a little dramatic, but just let me get it all out and I'll be fine in five minutes.
- My life still isn't where I planned it to be in the last year of my 20s. (Note: God has an unique way of smashing your plans into a trillion tiny pieces so His plans for you can continue to barrel like a steam roller through your life. Ahhh...the joy of surrender.)
I could go on and on.
I used to be the kind of girl that consistently lived with a mild case of cabin fever and thrived on new environments. I didn't like to stay still for too long. If you offered a new, exciting situation, then I could give you a girl who wanted in. I was the life of the party—always on the go and never missed a show. I think you get what I'm saying.
The older I've gotten, the more I've become a homebody, the more I like things to stay the way they are, the more I like stability and consistency. Oops! Does that mean I'm becoming set in my old maid ways? Not good for a single almost 30-something, folks. Not good at all.
Don't worry. I'm not in spinster training yet.
I've recently had an itch—an itch for an exciting adventure (beside the obvious: get married to the man of my dreams/prayers whose madly in love with Jesus and make babies with said man).
The whole idea of change and adventure makes me uncomfortable, but I don't dislike the feeling either. Deep down, the young, spontaneous, spunky Kaylan is trying to claw her way to the surface. I can feel it.
As I approach my 30th birthday, I've only had a few major breakdowns. Up to this point, the idea of turning 30 has equaled the end of youthful me, four-inch high heels, and the privilege of shopping at Forever 21. I've readied myself to usher in stray gray hairs, stuffy cardigans in every color, and a membership in the local quilting club.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe my discomfort means a good thing is coming. Maybe God is prepping me for a thrilling new ride in this next phase of life. Maybe I should embrace a "thirty, flirty, and thriving" attitude and look forward to the days ahead. Maybe turning 30 IS the adventure I've been waiting for.
Ready or not, Thirty, here I come. Let the countdown to a new era begin.
