We have a fascinating tendency to divide things into finite pieces – to create starts and ends to things otherwise continuous – in some sort of vain attempt to organize and tangible-ize things that are not easily grasped. We view infinity from the point at which we stand. We choose points on a circle. We divide time in infinitesimally smaller chunks in an attempt to slow its steady march onward.

The decade is the largest subunit of a human lifespan. We tend to speak of our lives in days and weeks and years, then decades, then entire lives. Sometimes major life events delineate our timeline splits – “before we had kids…”, “when I graduated from college…” – but most often, decades define phases of our personal histories.

My grandma had an old school alarm clock (as grandmothers are wont to do) on her bedroom bureau. It was the type of clock that had the metal tiles mounted to a slowly spinning axle, each tile flipping down from top to bottom as the axle ticked the seconds away. I spent many minutes watching the tiles click: 6…7…8… It thrilled me whenever I managed to catch the clock just before the turn of the hour, for changing to zeroes was always the most exciting. I watched with wide eyes as 12:59 whirred and clicked and 4 tiles quickly fell to 01:00, seemingly eager to clink into place.

This morning, I got a new zero. A clean slate in the ones place. A fresh set of 10 years, yet to be filled with the tales of my thirties. A chapter closed, with a finality just as poignant as the farewell to teenhood, but with a different style of emotions.

In reflection on my years of twenties, I am in awe of the changes in me, in dreams, in surroundings, in those dearest. I am excited to see what stories will fill the next 10 years. As I sit ready to write them, I sense that I wield the pen of my life’s story with a bit more intentionality, more finesse, more care. I am more eager to write slowly and clearly, savoring each stroke rather than rushing to fill the pages that I’m learning flip by faster and faster and faster as the years whir and tick by. I’m focusing more on relationships and friendships, as these are highlights in the chapters my memory has revisited today. I’m preparing myself for stories never anticipated – both happily written and sorrowfully – for pages that I’d rather rip out than keep, and for times in life I wish I could add a few more pages.

In just the past trip around the sun, I’ve lived and worked in 3 states, visited 19 states and 3 countries, traveled tens of thousands of miles, made new friends and reacquainted with old ones, and lived a life of adventure I hadn’t ever dreamed of. The best part is, I’m nowhere near slowing down. Life is richer than ever before; I feel it more keenly and deeply, and live it more fully and freely. God is unveiling pieces of my purpose and my life-story bit by bit, and the tapestry that’s being woven is both more intricate than ever before, and more appreciated as I see and learn what goes into its creation.

I sense that life in my thirties will bring a new set of responsibilities and abilities. That I will learn even more fully that life is about relationships; an integration of self and others, self and environment, self and God. That relationships are what shape and tell our stories. That one of the greatest responsibilities in my life is the impact that I have, intended or not, on those that relate with me.

It’s easy to stare at the clock, its slow whir captivating the attention. I plan to continue in eager and joyful anticipation of the movement toward another set of zeroes. And I’m so thankful you’re a part of that steady march onward! 🙂