28 Is Good

Today I turn 28.  I was born in 1984, into an age where people still talked on the phones with cords.  When very few people had a computer.  When texting wasn't even considered a word.

My youth group kids probably can't imagine it.

I have to say that I really love this stage of my life.  I am blessed to have work that pays the bills, and hobbies that keep my hands and mind busy.  I have my wonderful Bow Tie Man, who gets more and more wonderful every day.  I'm still young enough to have my parents and old enough to enjoy watching the next generation coming up.  I am happy.  Content.  Blessed.

When I was a little girl, I remember thinking that at this stage of my life I would be all grown up.  I planned to marry at 25 (which was only four years off!) and start having kids at 27.  In the meantime, I was going to be a star journalist, or maybe a novelist.  I would drive a sports car, or maybe a 1957 Chevy.  Teal and white. With tail fins.  Just like what Barbie had. 

And the funniest part?  I wanted to live in a Victorian house (because I used to think that was a house style) that I would paint pink with purple trim.

No joke. 

Isn't that funny?

Today, though, I'm happy to report that I do NOT live in a pink and purple house.  And I don't have kids.  (By choice, thank you very much!)  And I'm not a journalist.  Or a novelist.  The only thing I write these days are blog posts, or the occational historical society newsletter.  And I drive a Vibe that sadly lacks tail fins.

But that's ok.  Because honestly, I have all I could want and more.  Good friends (including all of you ladies).  A warm (non-pink) home.   My parents still here, with me.  A loving, generous husband. 

God is so good.