On the last day of 28 I spent myself completely and somehow managed to do a sort of celebratory tri except that I sandwiched the run and swim with two rides (granted, the swim was with a kick board because let's be honest, I was going to DROWN in that lap pool).  I woke up the next day feeling tired and... old.  But proud?  In a way that could come across as bragging.  Or shallow.  Or petty and vain.  In a way that I have not figured out how to say well.  I am strong and I am proud about this.  Not about the hours I log at the gym or the cute gear or the fancy protein bars.  I am proud of this body that He has given me- this temple that finally I am beginning to treat well.

I am proud of this: if I needed to, I could move my body and move it far.  I am proud of this: if I needed to, I could last longer than before without exhausting myself.  I could climb mountains.  I could run and not be wearied.  I could play hard with the man I love.

I am twenty-nine today and twenty-eight for me was the year of dying and grieving and losing and then gaining small things back and learning to savor those small things: a body that works, a husband to move with, our community and Sunday lunches, Saturday dinner parties, afternoon runs, time in the kitchen, time on the couch, time in the sun, time.

Twenty-eight was a reminder that our days have an end and that I lose myself when I let life get too big and noisy and bossy.  I learned that I could split into seven different directions.  I learned that sisters can be taken in a flash.  I learned that children grieving their father is the most human experience I have watched.  I learned that marriage means dying and that there is a way to do it with grace and dignity and humility.  I am still learning this.

And I began to write.  A book that maybe no one will ever read, but a book that is mine and that has me humming inside, has my mind working and my heart giving.  I began to understand my mother's spirit better and to recognize pieces of hers in mine.  I became settled in a town that had always been unsettling.  I learned that I use "I" too often.

Twenty-eight was so many things.  But the biggest thing it was is this: another year marked by Him and His glory.  And I was blessed over and over in the dying.