You’re never too old to hope for something. The moment you succumb to limits, in any capacity, you’ve resigned to being stagnant. Allow yourself to be limitless. Crave to learn new things, to grow in Christ and to build a healthy vessel.
I’m guilty of confining myself to “what I should be,” and when I fail to meet my own expectation, I stall and second-guess. Maybe I should settle, maybe I should be content with mediocre, I let myself hear and believe. Those are mindsets that keep me clenching to my comfort zone. Those are mindsets I need to let go of.
Yesterday was my birthday, and even though I’m on the latter side of my 20’s, I still appreciate the childlike specialness of that day. For crying out loud, I was entertained when I saw the gallon of milk in my fridge whose expiration date was October 27th. Something about that date just makes me feel good. And yesterday, instead of just enjoying the day, I was reminded by dear friends that I need to be hopeful for the year ahead.
I ate dinner with 3 amazing people last night. At my request, Katelyn so graciously made a magazine-worthy blackberry cobbler. I’m not the traditional birthday cake type of person. Attached to the basket of dessert was a red balloon and a challenge. I was to write down my hopes and aspirations on a piece of paper, and that paper would be tied to the balloon and released into the heavens. Anyone who knows me at all knows it pains me to be concise. We were given beautifully crafted vocabulary to use, so I worked on my page of aspirations throughout dinner. Only the balloon and I know the specific details, but here is what I want out of every year: I want to be content with a calling that may be unconventional. I want to be receptive to His guidance. I want to be a selfless servant in the midst of my own personal misgivings.
And so we walked to what has been a recurring setting for many a happy day, the Broad Street bridge. After deciding if I was release the string on “three” or “go,” they counted, and I let it go. Someone said we should’ve played the Frozen soundtrack, but I liked the stillness.
I woke up today wondering where that red balloon had landed. It disappeared so quickly in the vastness of the sky, and I was humbled just to watch it diminish in such an expanse. When I think of limitless eternity I am simultaneously overwhelmed and comforted. Seems to make my petty concerns pale in comparison to what I have to look forward to. Life here is merely a holding pattern, you see. We are floating, flying, waiting to land in something wonderful.