And just like that, my birthday has arrived marking another year for me. Today I turn 38. Birthdays have always been a mix of celebration and reflection for me, but this one feels a little heavier, a little more tender. Time has moved so quickly, and I find myself standing at a crossroads of sorts—closing certain chapters while opening others and some doors I am just not ready to walk through.
One of the hardest doors I’ve had to close is the one of continuing to have children of my own. It’s a chapter I'm sad to say goodbye to, and letting go of that dream has not been easy. There’s grief in that, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But life, in its mysterious way, has also given me unexpected gifts. And I am deeply grateful for the 4 beautiful souls God has gifted me. They are definitely the best yes I have ever done, hands down.
And a new door. This year, I stepped into the world of homeschooling a 4th grader. It has been challenging, stretching me in ways I didn’t anticipate, but it has also been one of the greatest joys of my life. I call it “bonus time”—precious hours spent learning, laughing, and growing alongside this sweet child. 1,000+ hours I will never regret getting back. I see flourishing, not just in my sweet boy, but in myself too.
A continual journey for me seems to be centered around my health. As I spent a large part of my morning unable to move around, I felt so stuck. Literally and figuratively. Sometimes we are called to a life we never imagined. Sometimes, that is for the better and we are thankful for that. And sometimes that's the hard thing about being in a hard moment. I am trying to find gratitude even in being in the hard.
Recently, as part of our homeschool journey, we read a book about Benjamin Franklin from the Magic Tree House series. His life struck me as profoundly remarkable. With only two years of formal education, he became a man of endless curiosity and tireless service. He helped shape a nation, yes, but he also shaped everyday life—starting the first library, organizing the first fire station, improving postal routes and roads, even inventing the rocking chair. He even created a list of goals all humans should persevere with the goal of making life better for those around them as one.
I’ve been carrying his story with me, turning it over in my mind. It makes me wonder about my own life, my own mark. I may not be flying kites with keys or drafting declarations, but I, too, want to leave this world better than I found it. How do I do that?
At 38, I am still asking the big questions: Who am I? Where is God calling me? How can I use my gifts, my time, my heart, to make a difference? These questions don’t scare me as much as they used to. Instead, they feel like companions—reminders that life is not about having all the answers, but about living faithfully into the questions.
So here I am, another year older, carrying both the weight of what has been and the hope of what is still to come. I don’t know exactly what my legacy will be, but I know this: I want it to be rooted in love, in service, in creativity, and in the small, everyday acts that ripple outward in ways we may never fully see. I want people to see me and to think of Jesus and how faithful I was in my convictions.
If Benjamin Franklin could do so much with so little, perhaps the same is true for me—and for all of us.
Here’s to 38. To closed doors, to open ones, and to the courage to keep walking through them.
