My 35th Year

+ a word on hope

A photo I took after I climbed the pit wall at the Circuit of the Americas after the Formula 1 United States Grand Prix in Oct 2022.

I planned a whole different post to send out this week—one on what I think when I use the word “safety” or defining what is “safe.” But today is my 35th birthday, and I didn’t want to send that out right now. (If you’re waiting for that post, though, don’t worry. I got you—I’m sending it out in a few weeks.)

Today, I want to thank you.

I want to thank you for being here. For reading my words. For hearing me and seeing me. For getting to know my story and for letting me get to know so many of yours.

On this day two years ago, I was despondent. With Oreos and oat milk, I celebrated my 33rd birthday, lounging on my couch, still wondering if my family and I were going to be okay. Salty tears had so soaked the crooks, crevices, and corners of my eyes, I remember the cracks of eczema left behind in their dried wake. Deep pain brought on the tears while physical pain lingered.

I was miserable.

On this day last year, I was still wondering if we’d be okay, but I felt the glimmers of hope. I was getting my sea legs in this new life post-spiritual abuse and exile, and I sensed a new way forward. Actually, this time last year, I was freshly back from a trip to Denver to visit my friend, Sarah Southern, where we all were able to enjoy white bean chili fireside with Sarah’s husband, Jordan, and my other friends, Ryan & KJ.

This year, I’m celebrating 35 in my home with my family. I’ve never had big birthday parties, so it actually looks a lot like years past. My situation isn’t much different, but I am different. I not only have hope—I have hope to give.

Friends, I have hope! That means so much when the spiritual scars of a life lived are still fresh, pink, and healing in the deep. Hope is potent stuff when you’re just starting to feel as though you can shake off the ashes of Pompeii.

Sure, maybe I’m still exiled—a misfit and outcast in more ways than one. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am one of God’s beloved. And I know the same is true of you.

I’m entering my 35th year liking the person I am today, and I am proud as hell of the person I am becoming. At 35, I am finally able to give myself the gift of knowing and loving who I am and who I was created to be.

I want to thank so many of you for extending those kernels of hope to me, and, in turn, allowing me to extend my small offerings of hope to you. Thank you for continuing to support my words and work even in the simple social media likes and shares.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Jenai

I don’t need to mention him, and he more than likely would prefer I don’t, but I need to give a holler to my husband, Tyler, though, he prefers being called Mr. Jenai Auman. He’s a man who has never made me doubt my worth and value, and he’s certainly never made me feel small or incapable. If not for him, I wouldn’t be writing and sending all the words I send out into the world today.

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For my birthday…

I’d love to read comments on how you found my words and work. You can post a comment here on the Substack post (don’t forget to click the little heart 🖤 too) or leave a comment on the Instagram/Twitter posts I’ll make today with the same selfie photo found at the top of this post.

If you have a particularly favorite post I’ve made or piece I’ve written, I’d love for you to share which one that is!

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Stay tuned…

- I hope to have a fun announcement to make soonish.
- I have a post on safety and how I know I feel safe coming to Substack this month, too. If you think the safety post would be helpful to friends you know, consider sending them my Substack link to them so they can subscribe.
- This Advent, I won’t have anything special going on. I’ll post some Advent writings each Sunday to help you observe the season if you’re unable to observe it in a sanctuary. But my primary hope for us this season is that we would know and live into a life of rest.

Thanks for being here.