I was out for coffee with a lifer friend, one of the few who grew up with me since the church nursery. I had texted the night before to see if she had an hour slot in her lineup of clients, and there we were on a Monday afternoon, getting all our words out in a beautiful space—not the brown Tim Horton’s booth per se, but a safe space built from years of sharing the highs and lows of life.

On a recent podcast, Simon Sinek said,

“When someone is struggling or in need, all they need is 8 minutes from a friend to hold space with them to make them feel better.”

What an honour to receive a text from a friend asking,

“Do you have 8 minutes?”

I was sitting with that kind of friend, and, thankfully, not in a current crisis, but she offered wise words as I processed a few things I was wrestling with, including heading into a new decade.

She reminded me of how much life could be ahead and how sweet it is to be at the age where we can still run or travel and also care less if we get chosen to be highlighted under “people of Walmart” for our choice of attire when living our perfectly everyday life picking up milk!

It was a shorter than usual afternoon coffee, though we always take more than 8 minutes, as I had to return to my six kids, but it was long enough to release some of the pressure building up to this number forty milestone.

A few weeks later, we were gathered around a long table decorated with a literature theme featuring the one and only Anne of Green Gables and other beautiful surprises my friends added to the party. We shared things that inspired us as we dipped fruit into chocolate.

There were a few tears as I wasn’t expecting their inspiring gifts and kind words, realizing my love language of affirmation was being spoken one after the other.

This group of tender, resilient souls who have impacted my life was my show and tell!

It was a toast to forty years and the sweet women who have endeared and endured.

Then, my hubster of 16 years and I packed his Yukon full of clothes and food, along with our six flesh and blood, to head off to the mountains for five days.

On my 39th birthday, I spent most of the day in tears; it was my first birthday without my dad.

This year, I wanted grief and hope to propel me forward as I remembered him.

It was time to apply my 18 weeks of training as I ran from Banff to Canmore on a fittingly titled Legacy Trail for a half marathon in memory of my amazing dad.

I trained through snow, ice and freezing temperatures over the winter, so I was less daunted by the fresh snow on the trails and blessed by running a couple of days earlier than planned to take in the mild temperatures, a warm sunrise, and a shocking sense of my dad cheering me on in the last few meters.

The spa gift from my mom and sisters was the perfect reward later in the day.

My husband and kids started my actual birthday with sweet decorations, cards, gifts, and blowing horns over breakfast. Then, we enjoyed our day together in Banff, followed by pizza and cake!

We only get to turn 40 once, and while this number is just another number, it rings out with midlife messages and biblical significance.

I saw these words on Instagram a couple of weeks ago:

"Being in your 40’s is so wild. Some have babies and some have grandbabies.”

How true! This is a magnificent age, and I am enjoying the first hours of this new decade.

Speaking of hours, if forty hours is a standard work week in many cultures and labour practices, then, like every other mom, I have put in overtime for many years!

But I will never regret that decade of pregnancies, births, and babies and these years of homeschooling them.

In the Bible, 40 is connected to tests, trials, or preparation.

While I have not been tested and taunted for 40 hungry days in the desert like Jesus, I did experience a 21-day water fast in 2023 and continue to fight the enemy's sneaky lies.

Noah and I don’t share much in common either, being in an ark for 40 days as the world floods, though sometimes I think I am on a runaway train with my zoo of six kids!

Finally, I have not felt like the Israelites, wandering in the wildness for 40 years. It’s mostly been a hopeful trajectory of fulfilled dreams at each life milestone. Still, as the years go by, I am experiencing more and more of the heartbreak of life’s inevitability.

The other week, as I was preparing to share my life story with my small group, I was pondering:

How can I summarize even the bullet points of my life in an hour or so?

Each memory, each story, is layered with meaning and feeling.

As much as I've always been reflective and curious, I only recently understood some things about past seasons enough to name what was happening.

Parents, therapists, spiritual directors, mentors, and friends—I’ve needed them all to help me unearth parts of my heart and story, along with the everpresent help of Jesus.

Maybe you have a wild story or felt like me, not having much of a story because there weren’t too many major dramatic or traumatic life events.

My story has a few more twists and turns in the last few years, including interacting with others’ stories that are not mine to shout out on the internet. We hurt and feel and need to process these intersections in a safe place.

Thankfully, I’ve experienced the healing that comes with vulnerability and community.

Lately, I am reminded over and over of a session with a therapist when I described the tension I often feel between the “workhorse” and the “poet” inside.

That same friend who assured me to shed some of the pressures of this milestone reminded me of the image I had of the poet riding the workhorse, wild and free in a field of daisies like the little girl I once was, spending much time outdoors running through the hay fields on our acreage.

With each year, I hope I care less about what people think and do more of the things I was created to do!

But what does that look like with a full house, calendar, and list of to-dos?

It means I continue to work on the posture of my soul, the sacred rhythms I have written about lately, knowing all the tasks, responsibilities, and opportunities are gifts.

They are the essence of having lungs full of air and blood pumping through my veins for however long God decides.

So, I will infuse all my heart into my work and play with a new and wild joy.

Born Wild

Forty years ago
Naked I came
Wild as it gets

Memory upon pain
Expectation upon joy
Layered and loaded

Until his return
Dust to dust
Stripped, bare soul

The workhorse turned
Broken-hearted, hopeful-eyed
For the poet to decide

With a Braveheart cry
This is my freedom ride
Now come, what may

Share your reflections in the comments below or on social media!

I love to hear from readers.

I am hosting a workshop on Building a Resilient Life, based on Rebekah Lyon’s five rules of resilience, along with a panel of women at my church’s IF Gathering conference.

It will be a special time to hear how God has held us and those we support through the hard parts of our stories. Register here!