Take me higher, God. 

That one statement is a prayer He taught me to pray about ten years ago.

When it comes to seasons shifting—old things passing on and new things coming—there are two types of people: either 1) those running toward the new and throwing off the old without a second glance, or 2) those clinging to the old, crying, already nostalgic about how much they’ll miss it.

I don’t know about you, but for me, the phrase “new beginnings” brings a warm feeling inside, like snuggling up by a fire in a cozy blanket and fuzzy socks. Or it ushers in a sense of adventure, like the first day of a job you’ve been dreaming about for years, your energy and expectations high, your hope unmarred. 

Two years ago, I turned thirty, and in the months leading up to my birthday, I STRU-GGLED. My thirties loomed before me, mocking me with all the dreams I hadn’t seen fulfilled in my twenties. I hadn’t published a book yet. I wasn’t a professional working actress. My husband and I were renting a room from my mom. I was not where I imagined I would be 29 going on 30.