Ode to 30

Thirty was a good year. A lot of experiences, conversations, small milestones, lessons I didn't want to learn but needed to, and people. People were the best part.

I started and ended my thirtieth year with bucket list items, both of which gave me joy I can't express in words. Both had to do with the women who were around the table.

On my thirtieth birthday, a dear friend threw me a proper English tea attended by 5 of my closest friends. We talked about literature. We shared our favorite quotes, one of which is now framed on my wall. Then we moved from the table to the sitting room for a round of theatrical readings. At this point, we had definitely crossed over into the realm of adults playing girls playing adults. Jane Austen would have approved. And at that moment a dream was fulfilled. My friend  handed me the script for the Lady of Shalott scene in Anne of Green Gables. For those who didn't grow up on these beloved movies, skip to the next paragraph because this will seem utterly ridiculous. I plopped lay gracefully down on the floor, a piano cover was laid over me, flowers placed in my hand, and a faint smile came to my face. My friends wholeheartedly shoved me off into the imagined pond. "There she weaves by night and day, a magic web through colors gay; she has heard a whisper say, a curse is on her if she stay, to look down on Camelot..." At this point, Gilbert failed to appear but it didn't dampen the moment. I'll admit this experience wasn't on my bucket list but not to worry. I added it so I could promptly check it off. It was too momentous not to honor it with a place on the list. Yes, I have friends who play-acted with me at a thirtieth birthday party. Embarrassment of riches.

Last week, to mark the end of my thirtieth year, I hosted a seven course meal around the table at No41. That evening merits its own blog entry which is forthcoming. The women around that table included some of my oldest AND some of my newest friends. Everyone knew someone. No one knew everyone. And by the end of the evening, the women parted as old friends. And that is the magic of tables and food and conversation. And amazing women. Magic is the only word for it.

Halfway through my thirtieth year, I built a dining room table. Utterly ridiculous to think I could do that. I'm not a carpenter. But I'm stubborn and didn't want to admit I was in over my head once the wood had been purchased and sanded and stained. When that table was tipped right side up, it became the anchor of No41 and No41 became home. Prayers around that table are filled with gratitude: for space, for food, for family, for inspiration, and mostly for the extraordinary presence of God in ordinary days and in ordinary people.

Notes for next year (which starts tomorrow): Spend a lot of time at the table. Have conversations outside my comfort zone. Try new recipes and enjoy some now-established favorites. Enjoy the company of men (in the most virtuous sense) as well as women. Dust occasionally. Use pencils.