I just passed a milestone birthday recently. 40. Forty. For-tee. Wow.

My wrinkles affirm it. My roots verify it. My joints testify to it. My friends threw me an EPIC murder mystery party, and I got an Instant Pot as a gift. 

So I've officially arrived.

While I’m not completely ready to embrace this new age bracket in life, I am eager to apply all of the hard-won wisdom I’ve gained over the last four decades. I’ve narrowed it down to my top 30 lessons of my 30s, a decade that brought some of my deepest loss, greatest joys, and spiritual growth. 

Skim for fun, stop your scroll for explanations. Happy reading! 1. Brussels sprouts are good. Especially when oven roasted with bacon.  And did you know it's Brussels (with an "s") sprouts, not Brussel sprouts!?!?  Mind blown! Spell check gets me every single time! 2. Husbands can change. …but don’t expect them to and love them anyway. This is a small victory, but an awesome one: my husband was not a huge fan of paying to eat out at funky places, but I’ve always loved the “experience” of trying new foods and fun restaurants. Somewhere in his 30s, he had a sort of food epiphany and now he’s more adventurous with his palate and his wallet. It’s been fun trying new places together! 3. Books are fun. I didn't read a lot in my teen years or my 20s (much to my book-loving mother's chagrin). In high school, I honestly picked book report novels based on the length of the book (sorry, Mrs Hughes). In my defense, reading The Odyssey in ninth-grade English probably killed it for me. I still don’t read as much as I’d like to, but I definitely picked up the pace in my 30s. 4. Hot tea is tasty. I’ve never liked hot tea, but I had a terrible cold at some point in my 30s. I was desperate for a hot drink (strangely, not coffee) and discovered hot tea with honey is yummy and soothing. 5. Friends are friends forever. Some friendships are for a season, while others are enduring relationships that you sustain for decades. I have friends from 20+ years ago that I can catch up with after months (or years) of not seeing each other. Some of these gals have seen me at my most crazy self! One thing is for sure – grown-up gals still need their friends.

6. Change is hard. Before I became a mom, I left a job after almost eight years to go to a new company, which I thought would be the mecca of fulfillment and job satisfaction. I grew to love that job, but there were definitely growing pains that I didn’t expect. After living in our first home for 11 years, we moved about 8 miles away in the same town – but it was hard! And almost three years later, I still can’t back down our driveway without running into our yard. Another change is that our son began school full time last fall (kindergarten!), so I’m staring down a new phase of life and trying to figure out what challenges lie ahead…and frankly, I’m kinda scared. Change is hard, and so is adapting to change. 7. Waiting is harder. I’ve endured several seasons of waiting in my life – whether it was watching roommate after roommate get married. Or watching my friends’ baby bumps grow as they held a toddler on their hip while my womb was empty. Or sitting in a hospital bed waiting for the next test results and plan of action. Learning to wait well is a necessity, and trusting God in the wait is a lifelong battle. 8. Saying “yes” can be awesome. Last fall, I only planned to watch my husband go on the giant zip line over a valley of water falls in the NC mountains. About halfway to the launch spot, I began an internal pep talk to my heights-phobic self:

Maybe I will do this.

I’m about 10% there.

25% percent now.

I can put on the gear and still back out.

There was truly no pressure from my husband or anyone else in our group. I think he was as surprised as I was when I put on the harness and helmet. I walked up the platform gripping the stair railing, my breathing shallow. I asked the staffer if other people were this scared. He said, “Worse. We’ve had people crying.” I laughed nervously. The nice thing about this zip line was you just “sit into it” instead of really stepping off the platform into the abyss. Still not breathing, I sat and my husband and I, side by side, experienced a beautiful glide over the valley with gorgeous views of God’s creation. 9. Saying “no” is good, too – in fact, it’s needed. I’m the type of person who, when I do something, I want to do it 100%. Chronic illness also limits my “have-tos” and “want-tos,” adding to my need to be selective. If I'm asked to do something that I cannot give the time it deserves, I often say “no.” Sometimes we must give up the “good” to seek the “best.”

10. I am an extrovert…who needs “me” time. This is probably the least shocking revelation to most who know me. But since becoming a mom, I’ve learned to cherish a quiet house, read a book, watch a sappy movie, organize something…alone. I truly wondered if I was becoming an introvert because of my growing love for these moments. But after my husband had a year with numerous business trips, and my son started school full time, I realized I’d sink into the blues if I didn’t have enough “people time.” I need to laugh…with people. I need to cry…with people. I need to eat…with people. I just need people. If I start slipping into the “blahs” that I just need to reach out to my hubs or a friend to recharge.

11. People won’t tell you what they need.

We often struggle alone, are in such shock we're unable to verbalize our needs, or we communicate in cryptic ways when we're hurting or stressed. In my times of deepest need, however, people stepped in and did things - some practical, like cleaning our house or bringing us food, other times just sitting with me or distracting me. Don’t overstep your bounds, but it’s ok to be a little pushy.  Deliver a coffee, a gift card, a clean bathroom, an hour of baby-sitting, or a well-timed cry-fest and impromptu prayer meeting.  You cannot be everything to everybody, but with one small gift of your time, people will remember that you showed up.

12. You (often) don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

My mom passed away unexpectedly when she was 57. We lived 1,000 miles apart – and while we loved each other, we weren’t the type to talk every day or even every week. We’d make up for it with marathon phone calls once or twice a month.  But, oh, how I wish I would’ve called more, visited more, and cherished each moment we had while we were in the moment! I’d love to watch “White Christmas” or “It’s a Wonderful Life” with her just one more time. Hold on tight, friends, life is but a vapor.

13. I was a great mom…until I became one.

I had no idea that this child whom I begged God for would test my patience like no other human on the planet. I became a mom at age 33 and LOVE being a mom, but it is work. Constant, prayful asking-for-forgiveness work. The long list of “I’d nevers” that I’d developed during my four years of infertility quickly vanished. Cue Netflix for mama to get a minute, ok? I’m sorry for all the judging I did; I get it now – solidarity, sisters!

14. Motherhood has taught me so much about God.

God has given me glimpses into His character that I somehow missed before becoming a mom. Wow, His longsuffering and patience with me is supernatural, gracious, and loving! He allows me to try again and again when I don’t get it right.  And so often God bestows that patience to me when I’m dealing with my son. Many times I lose my cool, yes, but other times I'm inexplicably patient and understanding (explained only by God's grace on me). 

15. Being a Mom is awesome.

Parenthood is not all doom and gloom and “Am I going to mess this kid up for life?!” It’s fun. It’s silly.  It’s sweetness. It’s letting them help you cook and dust, even if it’s imperfect and a little nerve-wracking at times. It’s seeing your kitchen and living room turn into Lego-topia. It’s watching your preschooler with pride as he recites a very difficult Scripture passage during the Christmas program, then proceeds to do robot moves on stage. (No lie!)  It’s humbling and rewarding.

16. Kids will mess up your plans.

They will come too soon. They will come too late.  They will throw up right as you’re heading out the door – or in their car seat.  They will throw a tantrum literally right before you’re getting ready to give a testimony at a Bible study.  Yep. Be flexible. Give grace. Laugh. Slow down and take time with your kids because sometimes the difficult, inconvenient things are the most important.

17. “Work Erica” and “Mommy Erica” are Totally Different.

When I worked in public relations, my co-workers would’ve defined me as Type A. I was very organized, black and white, task-oriented. Now that I’m a full-time mom, Laidback Erica has taken over. 

Breakfast on the couch anyone?

Climbing, jumping, exploring - As long as it's not destructive, go for it!

Due to our son's traumatic birth, my motherhood journey began with zero control over most decisions, including dressing, feeding, and sleeping schedules for our newborn. Often, I think God was graciously loosening my grip and removing only-child-helicopter-mom tendencies.

18. Getting to know God is a life-long journey.

I'm often too self-involved, worried, or distracted. I’m thankful that God continues to patiently call me to Himself and that His Word is full of deep, rich truths that I can read 100 times and find something new.

19. God is compassionate.

Somehow in my first three decades of life, I missed this (see point #18). I grew up in a loving home with parents who, while not perfect, took us to church and practiced what they preached. But I never really understood God’s compassion until my 30s brought some unimaginable pain – infertility, the unexpected loss of my mom, my own crazy health journey.  I needed God’s compassion above all else.  God isn’t there just to “teach us a lesson” and make us better Christians.  He is there to catch us when we fall.

20. God is good.

After a life-changing health diagnosis at the age of 33, the future of my faith came down to this question: Is God good? After much wrestling, I concluded, “But if not, God is still good.” These words are based off the Bible passage where Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown in a fiery furnace by King Nebuchadnezzar for refusing to bow down to an idol. They knew God could rescue them, but concluded God was still good even if He didn't.

21. Marriage is work.

Fifteen years, people. I don’t feel old enough to be married that long. When Steve and I started out, I was so excited to finally be living in the same state that I thought all would be easy and bliss.  But merging households, temperaments, expectations, and more hasn’t always been easy.  The fact is, if Steve and I look in the mirror, there are two sinners staring back at us.  But what does God do with sinners? He extends grace, and we need to do the same with our spouses. 

22. Having a goal with your spouse is fun and rewarding.

A few years into our marriage, my husband and I followed the Financial Peace University plan to pay off debt. While we both went from spenders to gazelle-intense “nerds,” we had genuine fun while meeting that goal together and have some great inside jokes. Later, we led a small group through their debt-free journeys. Some projects we've learned we cannot do together for the health of our marriage – ie painting a deck, yard work, etc. But finding a common goal, whether it’s a small house project or a big adventure, can be a great way for you and your spouse to bond.

23. We must learn to walk alongside others in grief.

In my 30s, I experienced copious amounts of grief and heartache. The sudden loss of my mom. Infertility. Pregnancy loss. My traumatic delivery experience. And a devastating diagnosis that changed the trajectory of my life. I also witnessed a friend fight cancer (twice), another friend lose her husband, another lose her mom suddenly, others face miscarriages, others parent special-needs children, and my mother-in-law face cancer.  I’m not writing this to brag on my fortitude, but to say that I'm very familiar with grief.  And learning to walk alongside someone in their grief is not only a necessity; it’s a command of God. Read these helpful Tips on Grief.

24. Rejoicing with others can be harder than grieving with them.

A dear friend of mine became a widow in her 30s, and she shared this thought: “If I want to live a life that follows and honors God, I not only have to enter into their suffering, I have to enter their JOY.” She went on to say that “rejoicing with those who rejoice” is difficult when you yourself are brokenhearted or lacking something (a husband, a job, a baby, a new home, etc.). There have been times that I have not rejoiced well with others because my longing heart was too tender, and other occasions God gave supernatural grace to join the celebration even though my own life was lacking.

25. Be teachable.

Have a heart that’s willing to listen and learn from others. In your job. As a parent. In finances. In spiritual matters. In your marriage.  may have gathered wisdom as I roll into my 40s, but I definitely have not arrived yet. Be willing to say “I haven’t figured it all out yet.”

26. Be a teacher.

Yes, you’re still a work in progress (me, too!), but you have others coming behind you that need your wisdom. Your lessons learned – even those learned from your mistakes. God is faithful and can redeem all things. Invest in others. Share your life and your experiences.

27. Give grace.

We don't know someone's story just by looking at them or based on how they act. They could be carrying a lifetime of hurt or a recent devastation – a shocking diagnosis, a job loss, a difficult morning, or everyday frustrations that just mess up your day. Give a simple smile, a kind word, let them go ahead of you in the grocery store. Admittedly, I often expect grace when I haven't extended it (especially in my home).

28. Laugh – a lot.

Laugh. At yourself. At irony. At silly things. In the middle of hard things. Watch a silly show. Relive a funny memory. Laugh when you are so frustrated you could scream.  Realize many moments do not deserve the heaviness they get credit for.  Laughter has saved my sanity in the ICU (beating people at Wheel of Fortune while on heavy pain meds is pretty funny).  Moments of levity have given me much-needed breaks from heartache.

29. Comparison is a joy killer.

While I’m known to be a bit competitive in the board game arena, comparison and competition in life can steal your joy. Others may have things you want and admire: babies, a house, an impressive degree, a good job, a thriving ministry, musical or athletic ability, success, friendships. Even comparing our sorrows is detrimental to our spiritual well-being.  God has us each on our own paths. For example, my kindergartner has declared himself the “baddest of the goodest” in his class. He loves school, but he is a strong-willed, curious, fun-loving, wiggly little man.  He was telling me about other kids in his class who are the “goodest of the goodest” and always get green stickers for the day.  I told him that we’re proud of him for doing his best, and we didn’t expect him to be anyone else. Yes, we teach and train him, but I cannot put this guy in a box – he’d wiggle right out of it.  So own your story.  Practice gratitude. Rehearse God's goodness in your actual life.

30. As an extrovert, it's still hard meeting new people.

I used to thrive on small talk and getting to know new people. But now, I don’t know if it’s being an adult or having a strange diagnosis with an iceberg of history underneath the surface, but meeting new people is…awkward.

“Hi, I’m-Erica-and-I-have-this-weird-disease-and-I-almost-died-several-times-nice-to-meet-you.” 

 How much do I tell them?  Slow down, Erica. Breathe. Smile. Be normal. They don't need to know your whole story TODAY.

Well, thanks for sticking with me. This list isn't exhaustive, but it was fun to do.

40 years old - what a gift! Do you love reflecting when you've crossed into a new decade? What would you add to the list?