I’m 1 month shy of my 29th birthday and I have grey hairs. More than a few, like enough to warrant never parting my hair on the left. I’ve never really bought into all the “oh no, I’m 30 :(” hype. But in entering the last year of my 20s I’m starting to understand what they mean by being perplexed about it.
We all have our bucket lists and things we woulda-coulda-shoulda done by a certain age. According to my calculations I should have finished grad school at 24, married at 25, been a mother by 27, and be a great career woman working as a journalist in the city trying to have it all. Needless to say, I’m falling a little short.
I hate when people say “never have regrets”. Especially when they interrupt you while you are actually confiding “You know, I really regret XYZ”. The only thing they mean by that, is that you can’t change it so why waste time talking about it. Well I’ll tell you why I want to regret the things I’m not proud of – I don’t think it’s harmful – IF they lead you to wiser choices next time.
Regret, or sorrow over my past mistakes can be holy, and even pleasing to God because it means that you understand that whatever happened caused you to miss out on God’s blessings.
For me, the prospect of turning 29 makes me want to simultaneously weep with regret and jump for joy. Having personally lived through those years, I can tell you I made plenty of bad choices, but also, I wouldn’t be where I am, wouldn’t have grown the way I did had it not been for those choices. And knowing that I might have missed out on many blessings then, being so blessed as I am now, only makes me want to walk rightly all the more.