At 21 I Was Given 18 Months. This Year I Turned 40.

I'll be honest. Every year around my birthday, I go through the same thing.

I'll be doing my hair, catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and suddenly start noticing all the things I hadn't paid attention to before. This year it was the gray hairs around my edges. Next thing you know, I'm looking at new hairstyles, thinking about coloring my hair, buying a few new outfits and convincing myself I need a change.

Please tell me I'm not the only woman who does this.

Birthdays have always made me reflective. I find myself thinking about the past year, thanking God for what He's done and wondering what He has planned next. But this birthday felt different because I turned 40.

Forty, shawty.

Even saying it out loud makes me smile.

Now, if I'm being honest, I wasn't exactly embracing those gray hairs. I even bought one of those little cover-up pens because I wasn't quite ready for them.

Then, while I was standing there doing my hair one morning, I caught myself.

Why was I so focused on a few gray hairs when there was a time I wasn't even sure I'd live long enough to have them?

I was 21 years old when I was diagnosed with peritoneal mesothelioma. I had been married less than a year and was only five months postpartum with my son. Instead of simply enjoying life as a new wife and new mom, I was trying to understand a cancer I had never even heard of. Then my doctors told me I had 18 months to live.

At 21, I wasn't thinking about turning 40.

I was wondering if I'd see 22.

That perspective has never really left me.

I started celebrating my birthday a little early this year, and somewhere in the middle of all the celebrations, it hit me just how significant this milestone really was. Forty isn't just another birthday to me. It's nearly two decades beyond what I was told to expect.

That's not lost on me.

Every birthday since my diagnosis has been a gift, but this one reminded me just how faithful God has been. Looking back, I can see His hand in every season of my life. Every lesson. Every blessing. Every closed door. Every open door. Even in the hardest moments, His plans were always greater than the prognosis I was given at 21.

Don't get me wrong. I still enjoy getting dressed up. I still love a good pink lipstick, and I'll probably always think about trying a new hairstyle. But those things don't define how I see myself anymore.

Being diagnosed with cancer in 2007 changed that.

These days, I'm more interested in living well than looking younger. I want to say yes to the vacation. I want to take the picture instead of worrying about how I look in it. I want to spend time with the people I love and continue taking care of the body that has carried me through so much.

Ironically, those gray hairs I was trying so hard to cover have become a reminder of something I once wasn't sure I'd have: time.

Turning 40 taught me that I am exactly where I should be, and I'm heading in the right direction. I'm grateful for where I've been, excited about where God is taking me and more convinced than ever that He wasn't finished with my story back when I was 21.

Forty years of life.

Forty years of God's faithfulness.

Forty years of becoming.

And by the grace of God, I'm just getting started.

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