Shades of gray wherever I go... the more I found out the less that I know. I found my first gray hair the day before my 24th birthday. Two days before my 25th, I ran into my second. What a fun recurring birthday gift - small but present reminders that my age is increasing in number and decreasing in charm. One gray hair per year, actually, is pretty humorous and not nearly as intimidating as the baby spider veins on my legs. But I'm not too terribly concerned about those either. Yet. I think, so far, I'm getting better with age. I feel considerably improved at 25, particularly on the inside. Except for my left kidney. But that's another blog to be entitled, This Too Shall Pass.
About six weeks ago I got down on my knees and prayed, "God, if Cintia gets her visa I promise I won't say another hateful word about ____ and ____." And then, a week later, I got a call from my mom that it had been denied. I was just on my way into Fred Meyer when I got the call and ended up wandering the baking aisle in a fog, black mascara tears streaming down my face as I compared prices on chocolate chips. I felt ill on my stomach to again be on the periphery of another injustice – to have another one of my kids be denied entrance into our "free country" simply because they are poor. Lamenting to my father about this the next day, I grumbled that God hadn't followed through on His end of my bargain. My dad replied, "You know what I think? Keep up your end of the deal anyway." So I did - and you know what? It's not as hard as I thought and it's the best I've ever felt. The hate is draining right out of my heart: words like "douchebag" aren't as tempting and my blood doesn't boil at the sound of someone's name. And it turns out that God complies a lot more easily with bargains if you agree to make the first move. So sure enough, last week I got a text from Cintia that read, "Hi friend!! The embassy called us, we are going to get our visaaa!" Okay so it's not water into wine, but it's still pretty cool. I am elated. I have acquired several other random but useful nuggets of wisdom in my first quarter century. Here is merely a sampling: Don't put a metal pot in the microwave. Don't leave the new guy I'm dating at my house if I have to leave for work in the morning. It leaves an awkward situation for my poor roommate. Running into someone I know on the street is never a coincidence. There is always some kind of serendipity or divine planning behind it and probably means we should go get lunch. It's good to give people a chance, but that doesn't mean I have to pass my phone number out like Halloween candy. Don't mock my boss in the office. Whoops. Sure I can do anything I want, but it doesn't mean I should do it all at once. Down time is a beautiful thing. Age and/or professional status have no correlation to maturity. If I'm afraid to do something, it probably means I should do it. It's good to have money in savings. I am not a jukebox, so no I do not have to sing on command. The Psalms give out some of the best comfort and advice. I have a better day if my bed is made. The person or people who invented pre-existing condition clauses will have to work extra hard not to be sent directly to hell in the hereafter. People can and do change. Don't hold grudges. Forgiveness works in everybody's favor.
I called my party this weekend my ventiCinco de Mayo. Lindsay was in town, I raised $68 for SMART, my friends are becoming friends with each other, and Reece asked, "What'll it BE ladies??" 25 was kicked off right. I'm looking forward to this year and the shiny gray hair it earns | 
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