My Big Three-O Crisis

I knew when I turned 30 this year that I was in crisis—I just didn’t realize how big of a crisis it was. That is, until this past weekend when I spent a couple days delving into the pictures of my past. You see, for the first 25 years of my life, “acid free” was a foreign concept to me. So most of the photos I had up to that point were stored in these large magnetic page photo albums. And then it was time to clean out the closet, and out they all came. I opened one and was horrified to see how yellowed and decrepit the quality of those pages were. Could this, in fact, be a sign of my age? I made an executive decision that all pictures must be freed from their acidic environment, and in so doing, I spent the next several days pulling out photos and bagging them up in little Ziploc baggies. The albums themselves are even now out by the road waiting for the garbage truck in the morning.

But you see, I had to look at every single picture that records where I’ve been the past thirty years and what I’ve done. A little amusing at times—a whole lot frightening. For into each little baggie went a chapter from my past. A chapter that’s closed and done. And so I think it would be appropriate to stop a minute, take stock, and make a few observations.

I saw in those pictures friends that at one time meant the world to me—friends I thought I would love for Forever. Those same friends today? Somewhere, in the passing of time, they’ve disappeared. We’ve grown up. They’ve moved away. They’ve gotten married.

I see the pictures recording me in my grade school and teenage years (yucko). The HAIR! The hair has got to go! High school—the era of my life that I thought I was the top dog and that I had for sure reached the ultimate in wisdom and knowledge. And now—how insignificant those years seem in the whole scheme of things.

And then the six years I spent teaching. What fun that was. And oh, so exhausting. The job that you can’t leave at the door. I look at the notes I jotted down of all the cute things my kids said, and it makes me just a bit wistful to go back. And then my hand starts curling into the Grading Position, and I’m glad—glad to not be grading.

I’ve been on six chorus tours, spent a month in Europe, taken a train out West, and vacationed in Florida multiple times. I’ve been to D.C. I’ve been to New York City five times—each time a little more exhilarating and just a bit more addicting than the time before. I’ve lived in Kansas, and I’ve lived in Kentucky. I’ve been to Broadway, the circus, the fair, and the St. Louis Arch. I’ve been on hayrides, and I’ve ridden a roller coaster.

I’ve been to two oceans and have been in fourteen countries. I’ve lived through a tornado. Although totaled and about to reach the 200,000 mile mark, my only car is still running, and I’m still driving it. I’ve been a babysitter, a cashier, a teacher, a postal worker, a receptionist, and an office manager. I’ve graduated from grade school, high school, technical school, and (Lord willing) will graduate from college…some day.

And did I mention I’ve lost all my wisdom teeth now? As I said… I’m in crisis. And I'm left wondering... when does the gray hair start?