This morning my friend Melissa reminded me that it was the start of my birthday week. And while my grandmother told me that a lady never shares her age, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m turning 45.
At my age, many women don’t consider yet another birthday to be something to celebrate, but I woke up feeling like passing another year was good news. It’s actually great news. Another birthday means I’m over halfway there.
I’m sure some of my well-meaning friends would want to make me feel better and say, “Sissy, you’re not really halfway there. Lots of people live to be over 100 these days.” But I haven’t had a family member I know of who made it over the age of 90, and to me, that’s really the good news here. My new brother-in-law, who probably thinks I’m a little crazy, recently told my sister, “I’ve never heard anyone as excited to go to heaven as Sissy.”
A Long-Time Longing
Though it’s gotten stronger recently, I’ve actually felt this way for years. I specifically remember being a high school junior and already longing for heaven.
One day I skipped school (oops!) with my dear friend, Tracey. However, rather than getting into trouble or engaging in some type of destructive behavior, Tracey and I took our delinquent selves to the local Baptist bookstore. I remember sitting in the parking lot with her, praying and crying over how badly we wanted to go to heaven. (Not really sure what all that says about me, skipping school to go to a Christian bookstore and cry and pray with my friend. . . but there it is.) Even at that age, something inside of me longed desperately for more.1