Wisdom . . . at 32

I have been remiss.

I have not thanked my Lord for all the things I have been blessed with.  At 32 I did not thank the Lord enough for the insights He bestowed upon me.

Now, it has been 12 – uh, oh! – 14 years since I was 32 years old, but I don’t mean Wisdom at 32 years of age. 

32 means so much more.

I thank God for the wisdom he gave me to allow myself 32 seconds “just for me” at the end of my shower. 

I turn the cold water down, just a smidgen, so that the warm water suddenly feels hot.  Right before it –ooo!—feels like a spa steam shower.  32 seconds to clear my mind and think only of how good the hot water feels on my shoulders.

I thank God for the wisdom that he gave me to allow myself 32 seconds of prep in my car, after my seatbelt is fastened, so that I can multi-task on my way to my next destination.  I use these 32 seconds to text my spouse (on my way!—I use a shortcut on my phone that allows me to only type “mmmm” to get that message out there. 

I hit send then I shake up my bottle of nailpolish (I love the sound of the mixing beads hitting the glass bottle—and I’m still in search of PINK-A-BOO nailpolish.  For now, I am settling for Sheer Pink by Revlon.)  I slap on a coat of this lighter-than-pink nailpolish, start the car and I’m off!

I thank God that He gave me the wisdom to set my DVR to record one minute early and one minute late because Comcast seems to be off by 30 (dare I say 32, maybe?) seconds and I used to always miss the last punch line in a sitcom.

At 32 I don’t think I had ever sweated under my arms.  I just never sweated there.  I also never grew hair under my arms.  (TMI?)  I did not thank God for these things. 

Now, at the lovely stage of life I am in, just 32 minutes of housework and mothering can cause me to break into a sweat under my arms. 

And any day I expect to raise my arms to put on my bra only to discover that there’s a forest growing under there.  (Thank you, God, for not bringing that fantasy to life.)

And now that I’m 14+years past 32, 32 degrees is no longer warm.  I can’t get by with wearing only mittens to work and leaving my coat in the car.  Now, I find myself wearing my long wool coat to football games in September, when the temperature drops to 60.

This stage of my life has also blessed me with the ability to lose 32 hairs out of my head every time I comb my hair.

But don’t worry….

I seem to find new hairs to replace them:

in my black mustache,
a 1-inch black hair that appears (I swear!) out of nowhere under my chin,
a ¾ inch black hair that grows out of the middle of a mole on my left wrist.  I never see it as it grows.  It just shows up during work hours at that length every now and then.

At 32 I could function on 4 hours of sleep. 

At 46, I need a 32 minute nap every 2 hours.

At 32 I wasn’t thankful enough for the people I was surrounded by at work.

Now, I am increasingly surrounded by newly graduated 20-somethings who think that 32 is “old age,” and that an education can replace life experience.  (Hey! just wait ‘til you’re 14 years passed 32 you people who don't even know how to use a typewriter!!)

At 32, I didn’t thank God for a regular period.  For the years when every 32 days my open-ended sentence got punctuated.

Now, I am blessed with monthly surprises: 

   Surprise!  No period this month.

   Surprise!  Three light days this month.

   Surprise!  You’ll need to go to the bathroom 32 times today.

   Surprise!  Psych!  That wasn’t really your period starting.

And best of all:

   Surprise!  . . .this is only the beginning!

Well…since it’s taken me about 32 minutes to put my thoughts down I’ll go try to get 32 winks!

Good night!

And thank you, Lord!