I’m turning the big 3-0.
And, surprisingly, my attitude is not:
I’m turning…
Turning…
Turning…
30.
but:
I’m turning 30!
*This blog is normally not so much about me as much as it is about what I am doing and seeing. This post will be slightly more reflective than normal, but I have no apologies—it’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to! :)
It is difficult to describe, but somehow I feel like I have wanted to be 30 now for 1.5 years—ever since transitioning away from Montana. In my mind 30 represents a stage in life in which one becomes settled, in which they ‘put down roots’, establish their career, raise a family, buy a house. And it’s not that 1.5 years ago I had an overwhelming desire to ‘put down roots’ in Cooke City; and Lord knows there’s no teaching career there for me! Not because I left Montana in particular, but because from the ages of 20 to 30 I have left so many places. Over the last ten years I have lived in Montana, Minnesota, Massachusetts, Kyrgyzstan, Lithuania, and Yellowstone National Park, and have spent anywhere from part of a day to 4 weeks in about 35 other states and 25 other countries along the way! Two years here, three years there. I packed my (usually two) suitcases and boarded a flight, or I put my essential living supplies in the trunk of my car and ventured onward to the next destination. Along the way I made fabulous friends and memories to last a lifetime, as well as a few real-life lessons now and then… not to mention 3.5 diplomas. In many ways it is rather fitting that I am turning 30 in Germany where I barely know anyone, while living in Scotland, and maintaining permanent residence in Minnesota!
I have loved, loved, loved the last ten years of my life. My twenties were some truly incredible, wonderful years that I will always cherish. I saw more of the world and did more than anyone else my age that I know, with the exception of Kween/Kamikaze Kim. (No one has ever packed more into their life than her. E.V.E.R.) The nomadic life was a good one, for sure. Akin to a EuroRail Pass, I could go wherever, do and see whatever, whenever, and with whomever I wanted. And if I missed a train, as I did from Paris to Luxembourg back in 2004, I just sat down and thought, ‘Okay, where do I want to go now? My options include Spain or Denmark… or anywhere really’. If one door closed these past ten years, another was quickly opened. The world was at my doorstep.
When I was 20 (or 17 rather on my first trip to Europe) and seeing the world for the first time, I thought I could live the inspirational nomadic life of adventure forever. And I could… if ‘forever’ meant the next ten years—which it does to an independent and adventurous 17 year old who can’t fathom the day she will turn 30.
But despite the grandness of it all, the nomadic life gets more difficult with every passing year, with every move, and with every goodbye. A formerly quiet voice within me now shouts, pleads, begs: ‘This is no longer fun! I don’t want to invest in people when I know I’ll only soon say goodbye! I don’t want to invest in my church when I know I won’t see the long-term results! I don’t want to navigate another train system—in a language I don’t know, by myself, usually emotional and jet lagged, with a heavy rucksack on my back. I don’t want to go through another incredibly awkward and lonely arrival. I don’t want to weep alone for the duration of a 20 hour car ride after another painful goodbye’.
Somehow after ten years of it, the nomadic life has lost its luster; the inspiration of adventure has waned; and ‘home’ has become a wayward word.
Though I’m now a certifiable expert-level packer, fitting my life into two suitcases or the trunk of my car has grown quite old. (On a side note, I remember packing for my first trip to Europe – when I was 17 – when I slowly put the what I thought would be necessary items in the suitcase a whopping three weeks before departure! Now, I’m lucky if I pack for a month-long trip 12 hours before departure!)
In many ways this backpack represents my 20’s, having been to nearly every state and county in which I have ever stepped foot. It has traveled on countless planes, trains, busses, ships, taxis, and even snowmobiles, not to mention the hundreds of miles it has perched upon my back over country boarders and mountain passes. Each patch represents the people, stories, adventures, highlights and lowlights of my 20’s. It has been my pillow on the grungiest of airport, train station, and bus station floors, as well as on many a mountain trail. My faithful travel buddy on this nomadic journey of the last decade. But even it has commenced a silent rebellion. The weatherproofing has worn, the buckles are breaking, the patches have started to separate, and even I have little desire to reattach them. In fact, I’d be okay if my backpack was only ever again used in the mountains, carrying a liter of water, a camp stove, and bear spray rather than the clothes I’ll wear for the next year or two or three.
I know I’m mistaken, but somehow 30 represents the opposite of a nomadic life. It represents the life in which I can be in one place, in which I can hang on the wall some of my pictures, display my collectables from around the world, have all of my books, all of my clothes and all of my paperwork on hand. (These are ‘first-world desires’, I realize.) It represents the life in which I no longer have to say, ‘Mom, can you go into my closet and find (…) and send it to me?’ (She also looks forward to this, I’m sure!) It means investing in one place for the long-term; building a home for the long-term; establishing a career for the long-term; developing long-term friendships; giving to the community.
Thirty represents the freedom to live a life that is not divided, in a place where I can be fully known and also fully know those around me; a place where I am fully me, rather than just a student, or just a teacher, or just a preacher, or just a professional, or just a traveller, or just a leader, or just a follower. The life of a thirty-year old represents in my mind the life in which I am no longer forced to decide who I will be in a particular place, but the life in which I can be and live every facet of my background, personality, and experiences. It represents the life in which I can be the person I was in each state and country in which I have lived, but be that person in toto. I can be fully me. Thirty represents this life, and I welcome it. (If you don’t understand this sense of feeling divided by places, then you probably haven’t picked up everything and moved recently, or found yourself adjusting to a foreign culture!)
I’m not sure that I look 30, but I’m ready for 30. I welcome 30. I have zero regrets about my 20’s and can’t imagine how I could have used the years any better given the path on which God placed me. They were some incredibly wonderful years of my life during which God proved himself faithful time and again. He challenged me, encouraged me, used me, and guided me through every state, country, Park and experience. And for these experiences and these ten very formational years of my life, I am now and will always be exceedingly grateful. My dearest friends live around the world and fit no age, religion, or employment bracket. And it’s because of these friendships and experiences that I am the person I am as I enter this third decade of my life. It’s because of my 20’s that I enter my 30’s (hopefully) filled with compassion for the suffering, a healthy dose of sarcasm for the witty, hope for the longing, pity for the arrogant, grace for the humble, appreciation for the world’s differences, and love for everyone I meet.
I have no idea what my 30’s will look like. I know what I want, but it may be that God will have me continue this nomadic life for another decade. Everything is possible. No matter what kind of life is ahead for my 30’s, I’m confident that God will go with me, providing, sheltering, and protecting me, continually stretching, teaching and restoring me, and he will continue to be as faithful as ever. Because of this trust I greet the next decade with open arms….
…and with many prayers for a long-term placement post-Scotland.
Preferably somewhere warm and sunny where I can be used.
And near mountains family.
And…
Beautifully written - I like your contemplative posts! Happy birthday, Haley!!! The 30s are awesome. Can't wait to spend time with you in this decade :)
ReplyDeleteWell said, friend! I am so excited to see when the 30's take you. :) Hopefully somewhere you can hang up your pack for a wee while! I like personal posts! Do more. -Andrea
ReplyDeletePersonal posts are the best posts. :) I'll be praying for you as you look for a place to stay put for a bit. All the best as you navigate the new adventures that will be associated with non-nomadicy.
ReplyDelete(I'm already not-a-nomad, but I'll be joining you in the 30s in a few months)