26 ways to sunday.

I'm 26 tomorrow.

I never really imagined what my life would be like at 26, so I've got nothing to be disappointed about. In fact, I think I may be ahead of the game I could have played.

I have intact relationships with the majority of my family. I've got good friends--old, and new. I own a couch (albeit a rather unfortunate-looking one). I'll have a Master's Degree by the time I'm 27, not having paid a dime for it. I've not yet had a truly embarrassing karaoke experience (at least not any more embarrassing than any karaoke experience inherently is). I've been given incredibly extravagant opportunities to love people, and to prove to myself that when things are on the line, I'll make the right choice. I know God.

Sometimes, I worry too much. I get caught up in the details of who I am, and who I could have been, and who I ought to be. But really...I have lived the life out of these first 26 years. I've lived the milliseconds. I've felt. Experienced. Gone all in.

There's no reason to believe that whatever comes next won't be just as fantastical.

I didn't make New Year's resolutions. But I will make exactly one birthday resolution. It goes like this:

I resolve to be the person in public that I am in private. To stop scrunching up my face when someone says something deep about God. To not be so squeamish about how much I love my Lord. To be that open, heart-filled, sincere and earnest girl who writes about God, and prayer, and doubt, and disbelief. All the time.

Transparency isn't really valued in the pretense of academia. The world doesn't warm to naivete.

The word on the block, though, is that mine is a God who loves humility, and has grace for my timidity.

So, friends, maybe this it the year of crazy faith.

Watch out, Pentecostals.