Life Goals at 46

I’m 46 now—as of yesterday. I’m still trying to figure out how I was halfway to 90 last year and this year I’m halfway to 92, but only one year has passed. Sometimes I think I’m getting dumber. 

After a sleepless night owed to coffee-too-confidently-consumed-after-8pm like a younger person might do, I am hearing my son’s voice in my head. A new year, a new you. And I’m wondering, is that what I’m going for?

Mostly, my thoughts are filled with wonderment at the lavishness of the love of the people in my life over the last several days. It started with a surprise party given by my grief support group—a feast and gifts for days. I thought it was just another Monday with people I love and admire, a time for them and about them. But they had thoughts of their own. About me.

Isn’t it touching just to know someone thinks about you? 

Receiving 36 thoughts embodied in 36 persons at one time is simply overwhelming. In a good way, of course. When I was telling my sister about it, she said “I need a grief group!” I laughed. I think everyone does, really. 

To my utter amazement and delight, I was off on my birthday and my boys were all free and up for a float down the Guadalupe, as was my long-time friend, Sylvia.

Our oldest moved out last week and our middle son will be two months into Marine Corps boot camp this time next year, so having them say yes to a whole day with me on my day was everything. Five hours of driving for an hour-and-a-half on the water is a lot of driving for a little bit of floating, but well worth it to me. And them, at least this time.

We came home to gifts on the front porch, gifts dropped by later, a phone full of messages to be returned, steaks cooked to perfection by my hardworking husband, and chocolate cake made by my mother-in-law. You know, to go with the pistachio cake and key lime pie from Monday. Love is good leftover, especially with a little whipped cream on top.  

This morning’s quiet time found me in the book of Mark. Chapter 8, verse 37. For what can a man give in return for his life?

That question on this day of overwhelming gratitude begs an answer. How can one repay such a gift?! It feels too big even to address. But a blank mind hardly seems right, either.

An image from last Sunday’s worship comes to mind. A little girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old, came in mouth-hanging-open-asleep in her mother’s arms. After some time, she awoke, only to be passed to her older brother. Another brother seemed to be eagerly awaiting his turn when his arms got tired, and Dad got the final turn and finished out the service.

I found myself thinking, her feet never touched the floor! 

I don’t know who enjoyed the holding more, the little girl or each family member as they took their turn. But for me, they answer the giant question Jesus poses in the book of Mark. 

Love and be loved. 

That’s what we give in return for our life. 

I work with so many people who grieve the loss of their independence. To become dependent on others is one of the things we fear most in our ultra-independent culture. And we are poorer because of it. If we all want to give love and serve, but no one wants to receive it, the system breaks down. The flow and power of love is stunted.

Sometimes, our job is simply to receive what others want to give, as humbling as it may be! And it is so very humbling. Feelings of unworthiness ooze out of the cracks in our being with thoughts of if-you-only-knew-who-I-really-am and you’re-such-a-better-person-than-me. . . 

Please excuse my French, but that is crap. None of us are fooling everybody. There might be some truth to the beauty and goodness they see in you. (Sorry, it is easier for me to pretend I am talking to you when I am talking to myself.)

So, I am receiving it! Yes, it is more comfortable to be on the giving end. A little power differential. 

To date, the best compliment I have ever heard was from talking with a son about his recently deceased mother. He said. . . 

“She had an infinite capacity to love.”

I didn’t get to meet his Mom, but I suspect she was able to receive the love he gave her too. However it was, she gave me my own life goal that day. As I consider “A new year, a new you” I resolve to grow my capacity to love and graciously receive what is offered in return. And meet that woman one day.

Thank you all for your love, in all of the ways you share it. May you have days when your feet never touch the floor because there is a line of people waiting to hold you. Amen.

Halfway to 90

I’m halfway to 90 today.  Not that 90 is my goal, really.  

I would say mid-eighties is an ideal checkout time, but just about then, I meet an amazing 91-year-old and others well beyond that, and I feel like a jerk just for thinking it.  A very experienced and beloved coworker recently said, “As long as I can suck a milkshake through a straw and enjoy it, I still wanna be alive.”  I like that, too.  

 I didn’t drink a milkshake today, but I am just home from eating out with my family and topping off with cake and ice cream.  I like to write a blog post on my birthday to see how my perspective changes and what is top-of-mind from year to year.  Kind of like a 2D time capsule with just words, and nothing to open but a website.

Today, I want to remember the questions that are bearing fruit in my life.

“What do you want more/less of?”  and “Lord, what do you want me to know?”  

Answers to these questions in recent months have been…More one-on-one, more quilting, less stomach fat (more exercise), more nature, less Facebook, less supervisor responsibilities, and more education.

So, I’ve…

…started drinking my first cup of coffee on the front porch in the morning.

…stepped out of management and back into the field full-time.

…started doing burpees (again).  It feels like longer, but I timed it today.  It only takes a minute (or so) to do ten.  Even I can commit to doing something for one minute.

…made a table runner, two quilts, and am halfway finished with a third.

…applied to graduate school, and start in 13 days.

Still no 21-and-holding for me.  I love growing older.  So much to wonder at, be in awe of, and grateful for.

It looks like there is a little debate as to what was actually said by St. Iranaeus.  But, I like the version that says, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”  I can’t help but wonder if that man was 45…

39 and NOT holding...

Today is my last day in my thirties.  Tomorrow is my 40th birthday, and I don't think I could love that idea any more.  For real.  This surprises me because I've heard forty bad-mouthed my whole life.  I think of black balloons and pending hospitalizations from spontaneous bodily disintegration.

But, if 40 is old (which it isn't), and old is wise (which it can be), I'm celebrating that.  The wisdom of growing older, of knowing more and more who I am and what I'm about.  That is an incredible feeling.

If I had to deliver a 40th birthday speech to the whole world in ten seconds, I think it would be this:

Some things need doing better than they've ever been done before.  

Some just need doing.   

Others don't need doing at all.

Know which is which!

(author unknown)

and 

Let your God get bigger, and try to imitate the God you believe in.  

The End.

Ecclesiates says "there's nothing new under the sun", but I still experience things for the first time, all of the time.  In a couple of days, I'm supposed to sing the National Anthem for more than a thousand people (Pray for me, I'm terrified!).  In the past month alone, I made a meatloaf without a recipe and it was delicious (A miracle worthy of investigation by the Magisterium), attempted reading War and Peace (and decided it was in the "things that don't need doing at all" category), had a patient climb out of a hospital bed to get on her knees for prayer, did my first podcast, made a new friend, and peed in a Gatorade bottle. 

   

If I live to be 85-90 (my loose ideal), I can only imagine what that list will look like by then.  Or maybe I will be like my 99-year-old patient who is still "disgusted with her prayer life".  If I die tomorrow, I am grateful for the list, so far.

In the next 40 years, I want to learn Spanish well, continue learning to play the guitar, walk the Way of St. James, and keep the better-than-good things I already have, which are many.  In a word, relationships.  

I have friends, family, and an incredible job as a chaplain in a healthcare system.  Meeting people, learning their stories, and sharing in their joy and pain, are among my greatest privileges and treasures.  

But, I start and end my days at home.  My priority, crowning achievement, greatest challenge, inspiration, thrill, and triumph is living under the same roof with these people.

If they were not who they are, I would not be who I am.  At the end of my life, I pray that if I haven't done anything else, I've done well by them, and by all whom God has entrusted to me. 

And so I pray.  

Amen.

On Being Born and Growing Older

The phone has stopped ringing. The Facebook alerts have stopped coming.  My incredible breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates are snugly filed away for future reference, and I am basking in my post-birthday love hangover.  Today is my first day of being 36-years-old, and it's pretty awesome.  Awesome in an ordinary way.  Ordinary like sleeping in, playing in the sprinkler, working on a puzzle, and going to the library-ordinary. 

I love getting older.  Are you familiar with the "mental age" idea?  I don't remember who I heard it from (Lauren, was that you?), but the idea is that everyone has a mental age.  It's the age you are in your mind, ignoring the actual number of years you've lived, or what your body is screaming at you (like, "You are 112!!!").  Maybe I like getting older because I haven't reached my mental age, yet.  I'm 42 and my husband is 67 (or somewhere around there).  I know some ladies who like to say they're 21 and holding, so I guess they're 21.  Maybe that's why they hate birthdays and find it rude when someone asks their age.  Not me.  No way.

I love that I'm "middle-aged".  Done with the drama and angst of being a highschooler, college student, and new wife and mother.  There's still plenty of excitement to be had in life without riding on a roller coaster.  This week, all week, the excitement came in all sorts of packages.  My sister sent a gift early in the week, which tipped my boys off that it was my birthday.  She is usually sending stuff for them, so they were highly disappointed (and maybe even a little offended) when they found out it was for me.  But, then they went to work like little elves, wrapping up all kinds of stuff that was laying around the house and dragging huge cardboard boxes down the street from a neighbor's front yard, while riding on their skateboards. 

All wrapped in Christmas paper with lots of tape, of course, I got a painted board, a couple of popsicle stick rafts that were made months ago, a Guinness book of world records, and a piece of cardboard.  The most fun, though, was to watch the 3-day-mammoth-effort in the sweltering garage, to build a cardboard house that was made to look just like ours (doors and windows in all the right places) that had two coats of paint and a paper towel roll for the chimney.

However, the best gift of all, was knowing that each one of these gifts was the spontaneous manifestation of their love.  No one made them do it.  They wanted to do it.  To make me happy.  And that is the best gift of all.  That whole "It's the thought that counts" bit is for real.  Especially with your own kids.  Because most of the time, they're thinking about themselves, and it's easy to wonder if they love you, or even like you, or even know you're alive (outside of the times you're getting them something to eat).  

Another thing I love is the way the world recognizes the magnitude of the birth-day.  There is no other day that we celebrate the value of a person more than on the day they were born.  It makes me  wonder about the possibility of choosing whether or not a baby will be born at all.  If someone believes that the choice should exist, they still celebrate birthdays with as much gusto as those who don't.  Why shouldn't they?  Someone they love has been born!  But, on one hand...the day of one's birth is Awesome!  Extraordinary!  Unrepeatable!  Worthy of Recognition and Extra Effort by All!  On the other hand...it's optional.  Holding these ideas together in a pair of hands is confusing to me.  Sort of like trying to put two magnets together that have the same charge. 

Life is a gift.  It's not always easy and it's not always fun, but sometimes it is.  And whether it's good or bad, happy or sad, it is always worth living. 

I have promised Peace but not leisure, heart-rest and comfort, but not pleasure.  I have said "In the world ye shall have tribulation":  so do not feel, when adverse things happen, that you have failed or are not being guided, but I have said "In the world ye shall have tribulation but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."  God Calling, August 10

In my thirty-sixth year, I am learning to wait on the Lord.  In the meantime, I hope to live with increasing generosity and joy.

2 Corinthians 9:6-8

Brothers and sisters:
Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly,
and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully,
Each must do as already determined,
without sadness or compulsion,
for God loves a cheerful giver.
Moreover, God is able to make every grace
abundant for you,
so that in all things, always having all you need,
you may have an abundance for every good work.

Dear King of Birthdays and Harvests,

Thank you for loving me into existence through my parents, and all of the people that came before them.  Thank you for a week-long love song, as sung by sisters and brothers, little boys, a husband, parents, and friends.  Thank you for days afterward to take it all in.  Please help me to cast off my selfishness and replace it with generosity.  Please give me the grace to sow bountifully and give cheerfully.  You know how generous my friends and family are to me.  Thank you for them, and their example.  Please help me to imitate it.  Thank you for birthdays and every reason you give us to celebrate life.  It is the greatest gift, for without it, we cannot return Your love.  Please grant me the grace to be ready for death at any moment.  Please help me make a good return to You on all that I've been given.  I love you, and I thank you for thirty-six years of life.    Amen.