Thursday

4 Ways You Are Wiser than I at 25

Today is your 25th birthday. 

 On my 25th birthday I was great with child—you. Only five-weeks away from holding you for the first time, I’d been a believer a mere seven years. I had much to learn about life and the Lord. 

You, on the other hand, took fledgling steps of faith early and grew up surrounded by men and women who loved God. I envy that heritage. It took me many struggling years to learn what you had spooned into your spiritual mouth. I’m learning it still. 

Perhaps this is why you are wiser, in many ways, than I was at 25. Here are four ways:


1. You see life like a photographer. 

Peering through your micro lens, you seldom miss the small things of beauty. You slow down to embrace them fully. Tiny birds begging pieces of your bread at a sidewalk cafe. A miniature Christmas tree hung with ornaments from Trader Joe’s. The inside of a tulip, dusted yellow and fuzzy with pollen. 


Photo credit Kristen Hatcher
Gazing through your macro lens, you take in the grand panorama of life. Never guilty of failing to see the forest for the trees, you wrap your arms around big, bold, bodacious adventures and step out. 

The mountains of Slovakia, the bustle of D.C., and the long city blocks of the Big Apple—all a mere plane, Metro, or bus ride away. You don’t allow risk to rob you of joy. 





2. You recognize the untapped source of wisdom in older women. 

Unlike many of your generation, you recognize that learning the lessons of others can save you time, money, and heartbreak. Instead of spurning counsel, you seek it out, eagerly panning the streams of wisdom for golden nuggets of truth. You tuck them away like a miner with a good eye, easily differentiating between Fool’s Gold and 24 carat. Keep building that stash, wise woman. Spend it when needed and share it with others. 

3. You navigate like a pilot with a million-dollar radar. 

Photo credit Kristen Hatcher
Anyone who can live for three years in the maze of D.C. without a traffic accident or an untimely death has my deepest admiration. Traffic lights on hidden poles. One-way streets. Orange cones and random detours. Barricades, security guards, and tourists watching the cherry blossoms instead of the road. And parallel parking. Every day. Sometimes on the left side of the street. Give this girl a medal. I’d need tranquilizers after the first day. 

And the Metro. You’ve mastered that, too. Red line, blue line, orange line. Foggy Bottom, McPherson Square, L’Enfant Plaza. Conquering the spidery web of Washington’s subway could be the final exam for an orienteering badge, yet you’ve done it without a single boy scout to hold your hand. 

4. You test the spirits and find truth in unexpected places.  

Christians who vote a different ticket. Churches that worship at times other than 11 a.m. on Sunday. Believers who exercise their faith in the marble halls of government and law. And Bible studies on Capitol Hill. Imagine that. God’s people are everywhere, and you have found them. 

And so, wise daughter, 

"‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate” (Prov. 31:29-31). 

Happy Birthday, dear daughter. I love you very much. 


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6 comments:

  1. A favorite post. Gracious, affirming, dripping with mom-pride and a daughter-blessing bestowed.

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    1. She is a gift. Your kinds words are, too.

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  2. What a beautiful post from a mother to her daughter!

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  3. I drove in DC two weeks ago. Absolute nightmare. Never, ever, ever again. I totally agree that anyone who can do that day-in & day-out deserves a medal or a trophy! Your daughter has my utmost admiration - and I've never even met her! :)

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    1. I'm glad you lived to tell the tale, Rachel. Thanks for stopping by!

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