Another Year Older, Another Year Rooted

Another Year Older, Another Year Rooted

Birthdays don’t feel like milestones anymore. They feel like mirrors. They make me pause and ask questions I definitely wasn’t asking at 28…

Who did I become this year?
What did I survive?
What did I finally release?
What did God lovingly — and sometimes persistently — refine in me?

February used to be about candles and cute dinners. Now it’s about perspective. (And yes, still cake. Well, because I’m not completely unhinged.)

This past year stretched me. Writing stretched me. Saying things out loud stretched me. Holding my convictions without hardening my heart stretched me. Staying quiet when I wanted to defend myself? That one almost required a spiritual ice pack.

Becoming is not glamorous. It’s slow. It’s humbling. It exposes the parts of you that still want applause. It confronts the parts that prefer comfort over truth.

And if we’re honest, the world is loud right now. Loud about truth. Loud about morality. Loud about identity. Loud about what’s loving, what’s strong, what’s acceptable.

There were moments this year when I felt the pressure to soften what I believe… To round the edges. To make it more palatable. To trade clarity for acceptance. But growth has taught me something at 58 that 38 hadn’t quite learned yet: I don’t need to be the loudest voice in the room. I don’t need to win every debate. And I absolutely do not need to be culturally approved. I need to be rooted. Rooted in truth. Rooted in faith. Rooted in who God says I am — not who culture rebrands every six months.

What writing taught me this year changed me. Not because it made me bold — I’ve always had a little of that. But because it forced me to examine what I actually believe… and why. It made me separate reactions from convictions. Emotion from truth. Fear from faith.

And here’s what time — and walking with God — has taught me: You can be compassionate and convicted. You can love deeply and still disagree. You can stand firm without becoming rigid. That balance doesn’t come from politics. It comes from maturity. It comes from trusting God more than trends.

And if I’m being honest? Becoming can be lonely. Not because you’re unloved. Not because you’ve been rejected. But because growth can sometimes shrink the room. There were moments this year when the circle felt smaller, when silence felt heavier, when I realized not everyone will walk with you when you choose alignment over approval. But loneliness isn’t always loss. Sometimes it’s pruning. Sometimes it’s protection. Sometimes it’s God deepening your roots where applause can’t reach you. And I would rather be rooted and alone for a season… than crowded and ungrounded.

The Gift of 58. If it has given me anything, it is this: I don’t need to chase every new version of “truth.” I don’t need to panic every time culture shifts. I don’t need to harden my heart to stay strong. I can be soft in spirit and solid in foundation. I can listen without being led. I can love without losing myself. That didn’t happen overnight. That happened through years of breaking… believing… becoming. Maybe that’s what birthdays are now. Not proof that time is flying. But proof that God is still shaping me. Still grounding me. Still refining me. Still teaching me when to speak… and when to pray.

“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:13–14

Another year older. Another year clearer. Less interested in applause. More committed to alignment. If you’re in a season of becoming too — keep going. The work may be quiet, but it is sacred. And as always, if you ever need perspective, prayer, or just a safe place to land, there is a seat at my table. There will be an espresso martini. There will be laughter. Probably a few tears. And always, always… Jesus. Till next month. Remember: celebrating birthday months is one of the most revelatory and fun times you are blessed to have each year. So celebrate yours too!

With gratitude and faith,

Kim