26 Things I Love about Life – A Birthday Post

Year 26 is a way bigger deal than I anticipated. After all, I’ve always loved the all-powerful quarter, which I often saved away like a dragon and its golden horde. 

Your early 20s are . . . hard. They’re good, but hard. I feel like, reflecting on those precious foundling years, I was just the idea of a human. It’s like God turned me from wooden puppet into full-fledged human. Because it has taken me far too long, but I’ve learned how to say No. I learned how to protect my gentleness.

In reflection, I wanted to contemplate 26 beautiful things about life. These are the things that have kept me sane 2000 miles away from my family. They are the reason I wake up in the morning, that give me a golden glow when I’m truly and fully enjoying them.

• 1. Fashion. As a child, I loved fashion. However I always knew it would just have to be a hobby for me, not a career. In college, fashion saved me. In the midst of silly trials like homework and crushes and sports, and then difficult health problems, I was able to find a little solace in turning my brain off and putting together outfits. I felt like trash mentally and physically most of the time; but I figured if I at least looked good, maybe, one day, it would translate into actually feeling good. Because nothing makes me feel worse than no makeup and sweatpants.
• 2. Outside. I would never have said I’m an outdoorsy person . . . but during COVID I didn’t go outside at all and I became very, very sick. I realized just how linked I am to nature. I crave walking through the grass barefoot or finding secret water holes and plunging in. I could stare at the mountains all day; sometimes they make me tear up. I love that no matter how many times I look, nature is an art exhibit that will never fully reveal its depths to me. 
• 3. The sun. In high school I remember thinking, if I were a flower, I’d be a sunflower. I used to take naps in the sun after church on Sundays, and those were THE BEST sleeps of my life. I can’t explain how obsessed I am with the sun, with light. I love the bluish tints of some mornings in the winters; but the pink-yellow light of the early morning peeking into my car windows in the early mornings of my college career left the most impact. Golden hour is a sparkly window of time when I straight-up feel like I’m a goddess if I’m outside. I love when bright light finds a way to sneak through blinds and casts proud, thick stripes across all in its path. 
• 4. Music. Music gets inside my veins. I am not a runner . .. but, somehow, when I have the right music on, I barely break a sweat because I swear the music is inside of my lungs, filling them with oxygen; it’s in my legs, pumping them over and over and over again. I feel my heartbeat keeping time with drums. I love breaking down songs, listening to the song first as a whole, then listening for the guitar, the bass line, the drums, the lyrics, and the surprising bells and whistles that you wouldn’t ever notice but add so much. Growing up, I treated the piano like therapy. I played songs from Les Mis after my first heartbreak. I composed pieces to explain my teenage angst, experimenting with chords and breaking them up and putting them together again. Every time life felt too much, I turned to my dear friend the piano. As a baker rolls out his dough, forming it into something that will bake when exposed to heat, I conversed with my piano for hours upon hours. And I was ok.
• 5. Driving. There is something so freeing about jumping in my car and just going. Several times in my life, I have had the innate urge to just RUN. But, too many times, due to politeness or the rules of civilization or just plain not knowing there was another way, I stayed still. Stayed silent. Now, when I need to run, I run. I jump in my car and drive for an hour or two and I remind myself: I am free. I do not have to stay. I can chase the sun, and nothing is chasing behind me. 
• 6. Long walks. In high school and college, I was a cardio bunny—aren’t we all at some point? But in my 20s, I’ve found the quiet, unassuming power of a walk. It combines all the things I love—I can be outside, feel the sun on my shoulders. I can observe the birds and the flowers an the trees. I can listen to music. And I can chuckle at the way I track my steps like I should be ordering off of the senior menu at IHOP. I’m obsessed with walking; all the time, I think . . . could I walk there? Is that within walking distance? I hate elevators and escalators. I like the strength in climbing up stairs. There was a time in my life an action like that left me winded, and every time I walk or climb is a celebration of my health.
• 7. Good books. There is nothing like a well-written story. Stories have been with us since the dawn of time; we have all needed to share our experiences and remind people “I’ve been there too. You are not alone.” Sometimes, the stories are so terrible that I go on a rant and want to writhe on the ground like an upset serpent. Other times, they are so wonderfully written that I want to hide in a hole and never come out again. A well-written story tickles the logical part of my brain; it’s like a puzzle being beautifully painted, then broken apart to be reassembled in front of us masterfully. 
• 8. Glimmers. As I was writing this, I looked out the window and saw someone had graffitied “Never give up” on a bench in dripping white letters. Two weeks ago, an employee at a coffee gave me free churros and said “Bless you.” An older couple helped my friend and I get into an event when our tickets weren’t working. There are beautiful moments all around us, if we only look. 
• 9. Creativity. This is one of the biggest pillars of my life. I have an innate need to create. I am often overwhelmed by possibilities; I want to put fake lavender on my ceiling and have it cascade down, but how? I want to make paper, but I really don’t have room for a giant tub in my tiny studio apartment. My mom mentioned that some people make giant paper mache flowers and now I’m obsessed with having one myself, but what is the purpose of that beyond simple beauty? My mind starts out as a blank canvas in the morning, and by the end of the day it’s riddled by all the things I want to do and the people I want to be and the experiences I want to live out and the things I want to make. If you were to look inside of me, it would be made up of millions of colors of paint cans that have spilled over. All of the colors overlap, blending. It’s chaotic but somehow to me there is sense in the midst of it all. Just . . . don’t look. It’s a work in progress here.
• 10. Connecting with people. I love when you send out a ping, like a whale, and someone pings back. Have you ever had that experience? You admit to something that’s been on your mind or a value you’ve been building up, and a new person’s eyes light up and they agree and you’re just like . . . well where have you been all this time?!
• 11. The working of the world. I never thought of myself as particularly smart, especially in the area of science, but if I’ve learned anything it’s this—do not build walls for yourself. You surely will find them to be the hardest to mount. No, in my old agedness, I am radically enjoying science. I’m obsessed with learning about health—how our bodies work, the types of nutrition we should be enjoying, all the good things like that. I can’t believe I’m a grown woman (pretty much) and I knew practically NOTHING about pregnancy until only a couple months ago when a close friend got pregnant. Suddenly, it became real to me. And I thought—I should probably at least be aware of this stuff. I will never get over watching history or science documentaries, or listening to psychologists break down human relationships. There’s rules to everything, and yet it seems every rule can be broken. It’s a twisted, giant knot of a puzzle and I kind of love it.
• 12. Dinners with the girls. There’s nothing like gathering around masses of food and eating without judgment. Why, as women, is food such a paradigm? I think we have failed at womanhood. We’ve made it about how proclaiming how many, or how few calories we’re eating in a day. We make excuses about why we are allowed to eat that brownie, because after all, we walked around the mall yesterday for 30 minutes. It’ll all balance out. No, there’s nothing like just eating, pure plain and simple, and seeing everyone finish their plate for once while we chat about boys and periods and all that confusing stuff.
• 13. Paper. Did you know for food there’s been science done on making sure the “mouth feel” is good? Well, I believe the same goes for paper. Maybe it hasn’t been studied scientifically, but the parallel to that mouth feel actually has a term: it’s called grit. The grit of a paper is the feel. Bumpy, smooth, textured, weathered, pulpy, wispy, thicc with two c’s, etc. I’m obsessed with it, to put it lightly. I still have it on my bucket list to make my own paper one day when I can fit another hobby in my living quarters. Honestly, the quality of paper for wedding invitations irks me. Half of me gets it—weddings cost an arm, a leg, and your firstborn child, so if you’re gonna cut costs it’s not going to be the dress or the venue. It’ll be the paper. But listen—it’s so excellent when the paper is good. Makes me feel like I’m attending a ball or something.
• 14. Art history. This totally geeks me out! Humanity has been around for so long, and yet we keep coming up with ideas! And, what’s extra adorable, is that we borrow a lot of it from other cultures and times. This is why fashion is fun too. There’s so many ways to explore worlds outside of our own, whether that’s through time or space. I wish I had more time to devote to learning about great artists, but for now the Preraphaelite era gets me every time. 
• 15. A latte. I’m a simple girl. If you want to make me smile, suggest a latte. I specifically do not want to know how much I spend on lattes a week, but a lot more women get their nails done and I never do so I’m sure it evens out somewhere. There’s something about visiting a new coffee shop—taking in the theme, the corresponding decorations, the vibes—and then getting a honey latte with whole milk. It seems so luxurious to sit there with the mug (oh my gosh, I hate when they just hand me a paper cup when I’m dining in) and just relax. I don’t need riches—I just need this.
• 16. Dance. Growing up in the conservative south, dance was forbidden in my corner of the woods. I remember being at Disney World or hockey games, where they’d entreat the crowds to dance—I was terrified they’d call on me specifically. Even watching everyone else partaking in dancing made me feel uncomfortable, like they were all spinning out of control and senseless. There is a sense of letting go required to dance, and all my life I was rigid and tensed. After a bad relationship some years ago now, I realized I needed to be more in tune with myself. I thought that perhaps dance would help with that . . . and boy did it. I was so clunky in the beginning. But day by day, tutorial by tutorial, song by song, I found myself letting go. And in letting go, I picked up something greater: I didn’t feel like a stranger in my body as much. I even think I felt life a little bit more. And I learned that there are a lot of dances that are completely amoral. It’s just dancing! Just feeling good and celebrating and letting music write your story for a couple minutes.
• 17. Birdsong. Do you know how healing this is? Two years ago, I had a night where I turned on birdsong and baked a pie and I am telling you—these two hours healed every part of me. How had I not known of this calming chatter?
• 18. Good, kind, real love. I am grateful to say, I have discovered what real love is. I thought I had, a few times. “It’s supposed to be hard,” I would tell myself, ever the martyr. “Good things hurt.” Yes . . . but not like that. And not the majority of the time. The “hurt” is more like stretching after a good workout. It grows you and makes the muscles expand when they don’t want to, but all for the better. But good, kind, real love? It heals parts of you that you didn’t even know was broken. It’s a safe solace from the constant storm of life. And oh what a gift it is.
• 19. Family—both given and found. You only get one family. I’ve always loved them dearly, and when I moved 2000 miles away I realized how much I took them for granted. We were homeschooled, and my siblings were never more than a raucous name yell away from me. But now . . . the distance is much more vast. And then comes your found family, which we all have. It emphasizes itself if we are away from our birth family, and it is something we build from the pieces in our community which God gives us. The greatest things I have learned are how to build, and dismantle, a found family. Be careful whom you let in.
• 20. Trying. Ugh, it kind of hurts me to say this, because along with trying comes failing and this is one thing I hate with ferocity. And yet, it is a necessary part of trying. This is a concept I love so much that I have a book in the works based on a world where trying isn’t allowed. If you ever find yourself ungrateful, look only to people who have found themselves in controlling systems: cults, governments, etc. You have the amazing ability to call the shots in your life, to say yes I’ll try this or no I won’t try that. How amazing of a gift is that?
• 21. Food. Ah, yes, that great and complicated necessity. Haven’t we all battled it in our own way? I’ve had my highs and lows. I laughed at gluten-free labels and downed 2 bagels for breakfast all through high school, then got a swift kick in the pants during COVID. I gained 20 pounds, lost myself, and hated the girl I had become. God healed me so much when I moved out to California and, somehow, when I wasn’t looking, the weight melted off and I was able to live life freely. And now my fiance is the best cook in the whole world and we eat steak and bread and butter and icecream and I don’t worry because I know he adores me, regardless of how I look.
• 22. Carrying one another’s burdens. I want to be the friend who you can call at midnight. I want to be the friend who will be at the hospital if you’re ever in a car wreck, with flowers and chocolates and a plan on how to take care of your dog. I’ve been in too many fairweather friendships, or seen too many people whose families disappear when the hard times come, and just being there is my specialty. Sometimes I am blinded by my own woes, and forgive me for this—but I really do feel my heart sing when someone feels they can entrust their worries to, and we can cry and pray together, and God brings you to my mind and I can whisper to Him in that moment.
• 23. Movies. I was never the movie girl, and I never even thought I’d end up with LA, but am I taking advantage of it now that I am? Um . . . absolutely!! I never imagined I’d be at a media company and that, when I’m not doing graphic design, they would even let me act or do voice work. I get so geeky when I see the film magic—the cameras and the microphones and the lighting. And then I get to watch the after-product, knowing how it looked before, raw and ready to come alive. But there’s also nothing like paying $20 for a film you know nothing about—a gamble, in a way—but leaving the theater with a group of friends and having to debrief for 30 minutes because it was just so good and it gives you hope that Hollywood isn’t using AI to write scripts but actually using its brain and its heart.
• 24. Answered prayers you didn’t even pray. Have you ever had a thought, or a little heart wish, and then it comes true and you didn’t even pray? That happens to me sometimes, and it makes me feel really guilty (to be honest) because it feels like such a sweet gift from God that I don’t deserve. I was thinking it would be so nice to do more acting, and then a friend wrote me and asked if I’d want to act in his short film. What?! I didn’t even have to pray? It was just a thought, barely an utter on my mental tongue, and yet God heard.
• 25. Honesty. People who lie make my skin crawl now. I used to give them the benefit of the doubt—but I’ve been burned too many times, and now that I am building a family of my own, I have much more to lose. I have people in my life who are blunt, but I’ve always appreciated that about them, and now I actually prefer it. It’s so nice to know I can say anything and, if they disagree, they’ll say it but it’s no big deal and I can know they aren’t just appeasing me. And, if I ask what they want to do on a Saturday, I don’t have to worry if they’re playing games and hoping I know them well enough to suggest something. And I’ll be honest with you, this is extra special to me because I use to be that person who thought lying to be agreeable, or easygoing, was a positive. Ick. Gives me the shivers now.
• 26. The 26 years God has blessed me with. I have 26 years under my belt now. 21 in the south, 5 on the west coast. I no longer shrink back when I walk into a room—I feel I’ve done enough time, begun to earn enough stripes, that I don’t have to back down. I am learning to balance my kindness with strength. I am growing in my Christian faith, expanding in ways I am walking hand-in-hand with God through. I am on the precipice of a new adventure, marriage, and praying that motherhood comes along with it one day. I am here, I am becoming, and this is good. And when my heart yearns for more life experience or less pressure at work, I just revert back to this list of beautiful things and I wonder how can I not be so stupidly happy?