August 16, 2010
Well, it happened. My birthday came, no matter how I tried to will it not to. No matter how I begged and pleaded with that clock and that calendar~ I am now another year older and I'm trying to figure out exactly what that means~ why this particular year stands out above the rest, why it bothers me so much to see that particular number. I've been in my thirties for nearly a decade now and I knew it had to end sometime~ and now, standing on the edge of...of... f....(sorry, I still can't bring myself to say it yet) I feel a little lost. So I'm just going to sit here and write until I make some sense of myself. 39. Thirty-nine. First you type a “3” and then you type a “9”. Three decades plus 9 years. Thirty nine Christmases, thirty-nine birthdays, thirty-nine Halloweens, thirty-nine new years. Thirtyninethrityninethirtynine. Nope. Doesn't sound any better no matter how many times or ways I say it. I've been checking “that box” on personal information forms for 4 years now~ you know, the “35-40” year old box. I was very happy being on the “35” end of it~ but pretty soon I'm going to have to start checking another box and I'm not happy about it. I like my box. I like that people still can't quite guess how old I am~ I'm in that lovely Limbo place where I'm not really in a niche just yet~ where people act surprised sometimes that I have a sixteen year-old son. I can still say “I'm in my thirties”. But next year? Next year I may have to lie. But I'm a terrible liar. I guess I can go along with the whole “forever 29” bit, but to be honest, 29 just wasn't my year. I liked 30 and 31 better. That's when I met Anthony. That's when I got married to the sweetest man in the universe and he and Gunnar and I became a Family. And soon after, my two youngest children arrived and those were very, very good, sweet, tiny-baby-in-my-arms years. Sure we had lots of problems, sure we were dirt poor and stressed out most of the time~ but I'd found my Home~ and that overshadows everything else when I turn and look over my shoulder to find my memories. In finding my Home, I found more of Myself and I felt like I had actually moved onward and upward~ no more just waiting (don't get me wrong~ I didn't just sit around all that time “waiting”~ there's just an internal kind of waiting that nobody else really sees, but it's hard, and it lays a burden on other areas of your life as you move along.) I did an awful lot of waiting~and every second was worth it~ I have been blessed so much more than I could ever hope to deserve! And I am told I should be grateful to be older and wiser~ that I have lived another year.
But right now it just fills me with dread. Dread that my sweet children are growing up faster than fast~ dread that my hair has a patch of gray in it~ dread that there are SO many Things I want to do~ Things I feel I should have already done, and Things I wonder if I'll ever, ever do. Dread that I feel I've wasted the past 5 years of my life~ that I rolled over like a coward and gave them up to the illnesses that plague my body~ and I want those years back. I want to be healthy and then have a do-over. Dread that I am coming to the end of my child-bearing years. Dread that I am now seeing an “11” between my eyebrows when I'm putting my makeup on in the morning (where the heck did THAT come from???) Dread that my husband's hair is gray now, that he has an “11”, too ~(although his is deeper and much handsomer than mine, and I happen to really love his gray hair~) I like admiring the benefits of age from afar. Can't we have the maturity and perspective perks that come with age and still stay smooth and rosy? No? Well, see, now we have a problem.
Blah blah blah.
And as I sit here and dread dread dread, I realize that when I wake up tomorrow morning, having officially been 39 for several hours, I'll still just be me, I'll still feel the same and life will continue as usual~ except that “11” will still be there, and I'll probably have to color my hair. I will stay pretty much the same, but my children won't. Each and every day they are becoming taller, hairier (don't be alarmed~ I have boys), more independent, more aware of the realities of this world~ all their imaginary dragons and bad guys are coming to life and every day they are closer to having to fight them, and I don't want them to! I want them right here~ safe and warm and cuddled up to their smooth and rosy mother, who, with one Look can send those dragons flying off in fear. I want things to stay just as they are. But I know better. I knew when I woke up this morning that I had officially aged another year, and there wasn't a darn thing I could do about it. Or was there? I could pout and dread and mourn ooorrrrrr...I could embrace the dark side and simply accept that I am now this number and be grateful that I have lived this long. I could channel Pollyanna and have a splendid day full of Gladness; and while the thought makes me cringe (mostly because I know it is the right thing to do), it will not be denied, and I find myself looking at Prisms (if you haven't read Pollyanna, now would be a good time to do so~ I'll wait.) *intermission music plays*
I realize that I dread those things (and many others) because I have been blessed and I don't want to lose what I've been given, and, as we age, the threat of losing or being separated from those precious things we love becomes more imminent or at least more likely. And then there's Regret. Things left undone, unsaid, unrepented... So, I could focus on the thought of Losing...or focus on the blessing of Having. Focus on the Regret or focus on Renewal and Fresh Starts. Guess which ones I choose? (please see above literary reference if you have any doubts.) It's easy to choose the better part when you're eating cheesecake (which I am at this very moment~ birthdays definitely have their benefits! Mmmmmmmmmm.....), so I may change my mind on this tomorrow (at which point I will attack the cheesecake again), but for now, while the creamy sugar rush has control.....I've decided to be happy about this.
So. Here I am~ 39. When I typed that just now I got the feeling you get when you stand naked in front of a mirror. It takes courage to do that honestly! I mean, I'm assuming it would, because I most certainly have never done such a thing. *cough* (no, seriously, folks~ we do NOT want to go there! Another day, another essay....)
Now, where was I? Oh yes. Standing before you~ fully clothed, and.... 39. And I AM grateful (and so are you!)~ I AM Glad! I am so grateful to be alive~ too many have had their lives cut short, and I can still breathe and hold my children and my husband, hold a camera in my hand and capture the beauties all around me, pick up an old book and get lost in it; I can do and say and think and feel everything available to me in This Life~ I am still Here. I am surrounded by the best people in the universe~ I get to cuddle and bathe and be annoyed with and read stories to and clean up the messes of three of the most amazing human beings to have ever walked the earth: Gunnar, Brennan and Zachary. My sons. I had the sweet privilege and blessing of carrying each one of them under my heart for 9 months and then of watching them take their first breaths in this world; of being the first one to say “I love you” and kiss their cheeks; of being the warm, safe harbor for these epitomes of innocence and vulnerability and perfection and the absolute expressions of Love from God. To care for, and learn from and be loved by Angels! I can barely contain the Gladness that fills me up when I think of it! I wouldn't trade all the smooth and rosy in the world for even one moment of my time with them. And I look forward to being 109~ to have all that time just breathing in the sacred space surrounding my loved ones~ being a part of all their years. And then we'll ALL have “11”'s and laugh at each other's gray hair and hunched-over achy cane-punctuated shuffling. We'll laugh. I'm sure we'll cry, too, but the laughing is worth the tears (please remind me I said this when I forget!~and I WILL forget. Pencil in that reminder for August 16th, 2011.)
And then there is my husband. My eternal companion, my best friend. He is 44, by the way. I love that he is older than me! It helps to have someone older around when you need to feel even just a teensy bit younger ;o) I want to grow old with this man. I want the sitting on the front porch watching the sunset every night together while we reminisce on the long ago days when we were a young and rosy thirty nine years of age. I want to have family reunions and make special blankets for our grandchildren (we are going to be THE COOLEST grandparents~ you just watch! We've been planning it since we got married!) I want to read every good book with him, and talk and talk and talk. I want to stand back to back with him in every storm, fierce and defiant and victorious. I want to go on trips all over America in our Winnebago (sorry, honey, you know I don't fly!) and gather souvenirs together; I want to go for long walks and hold his hand, no matter how old and bent we become. I want to sit there and just laugh with him over how gravity has pulled everything north of the equator south and look at old pictures of us when we were young lovers and see his laugh lines curl up (oh how I love his laugh lines! I kiss those before I kiss his mouth when he comes home from work~ there's just nothing better than his laugh lines!) When I see those, I know he has been happy in his life and that makes me deeply happy. He's endured a lot of pain over the years, and those laugh lines stand as a testament to his strength in the face of adversity, and show what a kind and loving soul he is. I am so lucky to be the one to see them and kiss them every day! He loves me, this 44 year old man of mine. He endures me. And he loves our children deeply. His eyes sparkle when he looks at them~ they sparkle when he looks at me, no matter how hideous I look at any given moment. He is a good man who loves the Lord and is determined to follow Him. I don't know how I could possibly ever want for more. But I do! I want it to last forever! And it will. Heaven willing, and our worthiness depending, it will.
39 is a milepost. There is a reason that “Enjoying the Journey” is the name of my blog/journal~ because that's what all of this is~ a Journey. And I am enjoying it. Every milepost I reach is a reason to rejoice, to look forward, to celebrate, because sandwiched in between every marker along the way are many, many, blessings, lessons, loves; trials and tears and heartbreaks~ and they are all a part of me and my Journey and I know where my Road leads. I know if I stay on it, and hold tightly to my faith and the people I love, I will get There, with them.
And if there's a Cheesecake Factory there too, well....
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