25: quarter-life celebration ♥

Long time no blog.
(5 months, shame on me!)

I offer no excuses, and can only give the assurance that I am here now.
The biggest difference?
This happy heart is a quarter of a century old!
*confetti bomb*

Actually, an increase in age isn’t really that big of a deal, but it might definitely be the easiest one to highlight.

Birthday posts are weird. They are very self-directed. At the same time, birthday posts are great. They celebrate life, and that’s always cause to party. At the start of 2015, I planned on writing about what it was like turning 25, and so this is what I am doing today, albeit 5 months late.

Twenty-five is such a good number.
It is tempered, yet awestruck.
I like it.

At the turn of 2015, my family prepared a small celebration for me. My dad brought out all the alcoholic drinks, while my mother served a platter of maki and some chips. My brother and sister gathered around the table and we exchanged a few stories. For my birthday, my mother got me Sonja’s Vanilla Sunshine cupcake, which made me happy. These are the people who have no choice but to stick by me and love me despite my many shortcomings, moodswings, and bad decisions. I celebrate sacred time with my crazy (cool) family, and celebrate the growing love I have for them as each year passes.

At the turn of 2015, the friendships I’ve formed – however few they may be – are the kind I can trust to endure. These are friendships that have stood the test of time (not to mention different schools, work schedules, and worldviews!). These are friendships that give me life when I am empty and needy and unlikeable. I have been embarrassingly gifted with amazing people in the small circles I move in, and so I am much more sheepishly pleased that some of these people actually call me friend. I celebrate the luxurious difficulty and heavy beauty of true friendship.

At the turn of 2015, my heart is expectant and giddy at (finally! finally!) setting foot in the industry that – I think – honors my specific skillset and answers a few of the many needs of the world. This is up for debate, of course, but in this season, I am fleshing out the gospel this way, and it is giving me great peace and great discomfort. I celebrate God’s timing and leading and (sometimes painful) shaping of my heart, and consequently the grace He gives for me to obey Him.

At the turn of 2015, writing has become a both a solace and a Big-Boss-To-Defeat. I have not gone more than a day without pinning thoughts and events down with ink, but at the same time, writing for the public – like this piece here – takes so much effort sometimes I need to physically lie down to recuperate. Or give weeks of breathing space in between. Okay, fine, months. Perhaps I am really just a slow writer. The private and the public remain confusing fraternal twins, and it is a balancing act, but I celebrate the gift of language, and words, and thoughts, and stories.

It feels like a milestone, being in my mid-twenties.

In my manual journal, I’ve actually admitted to that these are some of the best days of my life, and I pray not to be blind to it, and would I please have the wisdom to savor it?

Happy 2015 to you, dear reader!
We’re almost down to the second half of it, so keep fighting for joy.
(Because happy is easy. Don’t live on the surface.)

Abiding in joy,

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