I recently turned 31, and around my birthday every year, I love to do a reflective post on what the last year has taught me.

This is what my 30th year taught and reminded me – three lessons that changed how I see life, work, and the people around me.

The little moments are the ones that stay with us.

My niece is 2.5 years old and she’s the smartest lady I’ve ever met (I’ve been saying that since she was born, but it’s turning out to be true). I’ve enjoyed FaceTiming with my brother, sister-in-law, and niece since I live far away from them.

One of the most recent times we’ve FaceTimed, my niece asked her mom if we could go to her playroom. Her mom said yes, and warned me that Maya would be taking the phone to get there so it was about to get bumpy. I laughed, and before I knew it, I was watching a 2.5 year old run down the hallway with her tiny hands around the phone. The phone felt like it was hopping with her, and I could hear her quick footsteps as she couldn’t wait to get to her toys.

Although I couldn’t see anything but a moving hallway, I could picture the exact moment playing out. It was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen and felt. For a moment, I got to see the world through a 2.5-year-old’s eyes. I wanted to capture that moment and feeling in a jar and keep them forever.

The points:

1. What a precious gift it is to be a part of peoples’ lives that we love, to spend time with them, and to know there is pure love in the room with you.
2. I used to think that the most important things in life were the big ones that everyone sees – jobs, awards, houses, money, and “success.”  But I’m continuously reminded it’s the small moments we want to hold onto forever that actually fill us up. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have a full heart by my own standards rather than what others think or can see.

If you want to do it, you have to build it.

I started my 30^th year in the absolute best way – with three of my dearest friends in one of my favorite places in the world, Nashville, TN. Two of the three friends were guys I grew up with literally since birth, and they have been two of the most important people in my life. They are my chosen family and people who have loved and accepted me in every season (yes, even the awkward middle school years). Since we were born days apart, all three of us were celebrating our 30^th, and we wanted to do it in a big way. Plus, I brought another friend who was celebrating her birthday soon after ours, and she was a wonderful addition into this hometown crew.

A previous version of me would’ve sat back, waiting for someone else to step up so I didn’t feel uncomfortable initiating or just saying “no” because it felt weird to celebrate myself. But I didn’t this time. I knew that doing something like this was really going to matter to me for the rest of my life. So we planned the trip and did it, even when it felt like all of us had a lot going on in our lives, and we had the best time.

The point: How often do we tell ourselves that something is not worth it right now? Or we don’t want to make something a bigger deal than it seems? I spent a lot of my life pushing my true desires down so that I wouldn’t disrupt the peace, be an “inconvenience,” or go against what others expected of me. But now, especially as a single woman who recently moved cross-country, I’m realizing that I can’t wait on others to call, do something for me, or know what I need or want. I have to build the life I want. And not only do I have to, I get to.

(Side note: I visited the Field of Dreams site in Iowa this year, and as an avid baseball fan, I geeked out. It was incredible. “If you build it, they will come.”)

Strength isn’t in holding it together.

There are a few organizations and institutions that I feel like “raised” me or made me into who I am. Agriculture Future of America (AFA) is one of them. I literally feel like AFA has changed my entire life through friends, skills, and career opportunities, which makes me grateful for the organization on a deep level.

As a side note, I am not a crier…in front of others, at least. I was a sensitive kid who cried a lot and got made fun of for it. Over time, I became the person others depended on, which only reinforced the idea that I needed to “hold it together.” Both of these experiences and beliefs led to me subconsciously thinking that the worst thing I could ever do would be to cry in front of people and to show my “weakness.”

AFA has been the only thing (outside of getting my heart broken or grieving a lost loved one) that has made me cry in front of other people because of its impact on me. Most of the time when I got emotional about AFA, it has been in a small group or behind closed doors…until this year.

I received a special award from AFA this fall about a week before I moved cross-country. Everything felt heavier because of my upcoming relocation, but as always, AFA made me cry. And this time, I sobbed on-stage in front of 1,500+ people. A lot of friends, even more strangers, and some executives in the agriculture industry. I. Was. Mortified.

The award meant so much to me because I believe I am a living testament to the power of AFA’s mission and reach – it felt like a chance to say “thank you” to a community that has given me so much. It makes perfect sense why I got emotional.

Every time someone congratulated me on the award (and sometimes still), I mentioned how I don’t normally cry in front of other people like I did that night. I tried to make a joke of it, but deep down, it still felt embarrassing because I thought it made me weak. And almost every time I responded with that joke or comment, the person congratulating me said they could tell how much it meant to me, how it showed I care about AFA, or how I still pushed through and shared my remarks effectively. None of them judged me. If anything, they saw it as a reflection of how much I cared.

The points:

1. We can be so quick to criticize or judge ourselves for the “one thing” we think we could’ve done better. When we do that, we miss the whole point. In my case, I had so many reasons to celebrate, but focused on the one thing I felt shame about. What if we stopped to celebrate instead of critiqued right away?
2. Strength doesn’t mean being perfectly composed. Yes, it’s important to have consistency to build trust in our relationships, but authenticity is how that goes even further. This means that we both have to say and show how we’re feeling sometimes, and accept not being perfect. I’m working on both of those, and believe there’s freedom on the other side.

As a recruiter who loves resumes, it can be easy to think that a “full resume” or looking good on paper can indicate a full or good life. However, this year reminded me that a full life is built from the moments we’re present for, the choices we’re willing to make, and the courage to show up as we are.