Good Condition for its Age

Today is my 35th birthday. 

And my favorite children's book of all time is “The Little Engine That Could”. 

I’m not totally sure why it effects me the way it does, or why I love it so much, but when the helpful little blue engine puffs down the other side of the mountain to deliver the toys and food to the good boys and girls waiting on the other side, she says to herself “I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could.” and I cry every time I read it. Every. Time. 

I think I love it because it doesn't just say... "she made it over the mountain... yay!" It says "She puffed steadily down the mountain." She was sure. Confident. Steady. 

I think I love it because it gives me hope. It reminds me that I have the power to do stuff if I believe I can. There have been so many times in my life when I haven't thought I could. There have been so many times when I wasn't even willing to say “I think I can” to myself, because I really didn't think I could. 

I think I love it because it's positive thinking. It’s believing you can do hard things. It’s taking a chance on yourself and then reinforcing your mind with the positive affirmation that you believe in you. 

Today, I had my regular six week hair appointment (the attempt I make to cover up my gray hair and disguise the age that continues to creep up on me), it happened to land on my birthday. I arrived a little early to my appointment, so I decided to take a walk through the antique mall next to the salon.

As I weaved in and out of different sections of someone else’s cast off junk (often being sold as “vintage” and ticketed up to ridiculous prices), I passed a locked glass case and something caught my eye. 

It was my book. 

I have three copies of this book at home already, but I love it so much, I still considered buying it. I stood there for a moment, reminding myself that I didn’t need another copy of the same book, and to just keep walking.

But then, something about it caught my eye. There in the top right corner, was an inventory sticker that made me tear up a little...

“Printed: 1983. 35 years old. Very good condition for it’s age.” 

There I was. 

In a nutshell, staring at me through the glass at an antique store (no symbolism there) in the form of my favorite children's book ever, was me. 

It had to be mine. (Though the mean girls at the antique store wouldn’t let me keep the sticker for inventory reasons... and believe me, I begged shamelessly.) 

I am a little aged, but I’m in pretty good condition. 

Getting older is hard. Though it mostly doesn’t bother me because the older I get, the more confident I become with who I am and where I’m going. I am happy with myself. I am comfortable, and complete and whole. Age gave me that. Experience gave me that. Time and life gave me that, and so age, for me, is generally just a number. Something to tell people about where I land in the scheme of things. 

Sometimes though, getting older means things get bigger and life gets more complicated. It’s harder. Some days it feels like there isn’t enough time to do everything I had planned to do. Sometimes getting older is hard, not because I look older, feel older, or because people have stopped telling me I look too young to have as many children as I do (though those things bum me out a little), but because it means that time is passing. It means that all of my dreams and “to do’s” have an expiration date. And it’s closing in. 

Finding this book today... my book... printed the year I was born... coincidentally on the day I was born... it felt like fate. It felt like Heavenly Father was saying to me... You've got a little in you still. You’re in very good condition for your age. You can do whatever you think you can. 

The Little Engine believed she could. She wasn’t great or amazing. She wasn’t big and shiny. She wasn’t strong or particularly smart. And she wasn’t even necessarily what she thought all the dolls and toys needed. But she did it anyway. She did it because of how she thought about herself. She did it because she thought she could do something that was hard. 

I'm tearing up a little just thinking about it. This page in the book literally gives me chills when I read it.

I'm going to bed now. I am going to sleep on the thought that I can do things that are hard. I won't feel this way all the time. Sometimes I'll feel sorry for myself and chug off pitifully telling myself and those around me that I'm too tired to make it over the mountain. Those days will come, unfortunately. But for today, on my 35th birthday, I am going to sleep feeling steady. 

Cuz I'm in pretty good condition for my age, and I can do anything I think I can. 

And so can you.