Do you ever get the giddy, stomach-jumpy feeling that something big is coming? I don’t feel it too often. The details of my life are mundane and consistent, laced with blessings but still rather ‘as usual’ from day to day. Lately though, I can’t shake the aforementioned feeling. It’s a heightened awareness, a standing on my tip-toes wondering what’s over the bend perspective.
In 17 days, I’ll turn 30. I’ve concluded this has a lot to do with the current feeling. Until just the last few days, I’ve given little thought to this mile marker birthday. It hasn’t bothered me or worried me or excited me. Celebrating birthdays is a great love of mine so I have simply looked forward to enjoying this one in a fashion similar to the rest. My sister and my boyfriend have undertaken the plans though and I am not privy to details. This arrangement certainly warrants some happy anticipation. For some reason though, it is more than that. It is more than the expectation of a fun, memorable celebration. It is a hope.
An undefined but hearty hope. I am hopeful. I am hopeful about my still unpublished novel which I am working diligently to revise and improve and nervously submit to my fellow book club ladies for their reading pleasure (ideally…). I am hopeful about the man I love with all my heart, who is gradually welcoming a faith in Christ and the Church and all the life giving goodness that comes from a sacramental relationship with our Lord. I am hopeful about the things in myself that need significant growth – those habits and virtues and courses of action that will lead me daily closer to the best version of myself.
Whether it’s the Holy Spirit or my own persistent optimism, I am expecting big things.
For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope. (Jeremiah 29:11, NAB)