On her eighteenth birthday, she came home, found Ma in the kitchen, and rolled up her shirt. Ma, predictably, gasped.
“That’s permanent, you know. That ain’t gonna look good when you’re eighty.”
“Ma, nothin’ looks good when you’re eighty.”
Ma stared at daughter for a long moment and finally, with just enough movement to change the light reflecting off her bifocals, nodded. She found another glass, poured a half inch of wine into it from her own glass, and handed it to her daughter.
“Okay, then.”
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Fuchsias--A 100-Word Novel
I want to say to her, "He's all wrong for you; you're breaking my heart." A mother knows things, and I know I'll be helping her sweep up the debris—again—when the whole thing implodes in a few weeks or months—or worse, a few years, when another big chunk of her life has disappeared forever.
Instead I tend my potted garden. I pinch the hips off the wilted fuchsias, as I've learned to do, so that the plant will put no more energy into something that is already dead.
Instead I tend my potted garden. I pinch the hips off the wilted fuchsias, as I've learned to do, so that the plant will put no more energy into something that is already dead.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Thanksgiving: A Love Story
When I was a young mother, we attended a growing church in Phoenix, Arizona, which was to be the place that formed me as an adult. Several extended families—brothers and sisters with their spouses and children, some with parents or grandparents—made Desert Springs Bible Church their church home from the early days of the church’s existence, which began shortly before we began attending in 1981. I envied the relationships I saw between these extended families. Something about these grown siblings, worshipping together and maintaining regular contact with one another through their shared church activities, essentially raising their children together, sharing values and meals and in many ways their lives, created a longing in my heart for something similar.
Since the time I left for college at age 17, my family never again regularly worshipped together. As each of us left home for college and marriage and all the other usual adult activities, we somehow never ended up in the same church again, at least not all at the same time. Of course some of this was because we didn’t always live in the same town, but some of it was due to divergent ideas about what church should be, divergent needs and expectations, and divergent preferred worship styles. I could not see how the longing to have my extended family with me at church would ever be fulfilled, so I suppressed it. Eventually we moved to the Seattle area and found a church home here.
During and after my divorce in 2006, I briefly attended a friend’s church while I was trying to get my feet back beneath me, and I will always be grateful for the care they extended to me, but I never felt completely at home there. When Darrel and I became friends (I had bought the condo next door to his), we eventually visited each other’s churches. Immediately, I felt welcome at Shoreline Covenant Church, a feeling I chalked up to being with Darrel, because everyone who has met him knows and loves him. But I did notice that two of his brothers and their families attended SCC as well. The alternate visits continued, as did my relationship with Darrel.
Eventually, much to the surprise of both of us, Darrel and I decided to get married. And, much to Darrel’s surprise, I told him that I wanted to go to SCC permanently. He had been willing, and indeed expected, to attend the church that was my temporary resting place during that long transition in my life. One of the reasons that SCC was so attractive to me was Darrel’s extended family. Finally, the longing I had carried in my heart for so many years to worship and be regularly involved in the lives of an extended family in church together could be fulfilled.
I believe that when the Bible says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4), it means not only that he will give us things we desire, but also that he is actually the one who creates the desire within us. I believe God planted the desire for an extended family worship experience long before I ever met Darrel. And when that desire was met, I sensed the nearness of God in a new way. When I sit in church, and Darrel’s brother Doug and wife Katie are sitting behind us, and their daughter Sarah and her husband and three children are nearby, and Darrel’s brother Dan and wife Cindy and their two daughters are sitting next to us, I sense God’s love for me all over again.
But there’s more. I’ve been attending SCC regularly for about two years or so now, and I find that I look forward to church, can’t wait to be there, am sorry when circumstances or illness force me to miss church. Maybe you are the kind of person who has always loved church, but I can’t honestly say that I have always really wanted to be there; sometimes I have gone to church just because I should, not because anything in particular draws me there. But it’s different at Shoreline. Although there is nothing flashy about the Sunday morning experience—we don’t even have a video projection system, for pete’s sake—my heart is filled with a gladness so profound that I am almost embarrassed by it each week as I await the start of the service. As I have pondered this recently, I have identified a few things that draw me back again and again.
First of all, SCC people are genuinely welcoming. I know that being with Darrel was a natural opener for many people to talk to me, but that doesn’t explain it all. I went to a women’s event which my sister-in-law Cindy promised to attend with me, but at the last moment she couldn’t go, so I went by myself. Most of the women there did not know me personally, but I was busy in conversation and activity for the entire morning. At no point did my natural shyness (yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I actually find the process of meeting new people to be somewhat grueling) win the day; I went home glad that I had been there, and with names attached to several new faces. Every Sunday someone asks me a specific question about a specific detail of my life. Often I have a conversation with someone I have never met before who wants to ask me a question because, for instance, they heard I was going to seminary. SCC’s members are not just doing their duty; they are spilling forth the self-giving, others-centered love of God. They are genuinely interested in one another’s lives. I want to be like them; I try to emulate them, to copy them, to memorize their love-strategies, because I have been loved by their interest in me.
Secondly, SCC provides space for silence, built into the fabric of worship. I cannot remember in my nearly 50 previous years of church attendance a regular experience of silence as a legitimate and welcomed part of worship. A period of silence shortly after the service begins invites us to orient ourselves to God’s presence “in the quietness of our hearts.” A period for silence and sharing our needs and joys, where no one is expected to speak but we may if we wish share something that is on our hearts, often comes later in the service. Occasionally, we are invited to come forward and pray with a staff member or board member, and we are specifically asked to give one another the freedom to participate without morbid curiosity. We even have whole services devoted to silence—without music, without conversation, with Scripture readings and prayer and little else. Our services are not rushed, not cramped; we have time to breathe and reflect between this song and that reading and the next prayer. We have time to sense God’s interaction with us instead of somehow trying to demand it with a ceaseless flow of words, music, and noise. The ebb and flow of silence and sound creates context and space for me to worship more fully.
Thirdly, although almost all the people I know at SCC take their relationship with God pretty seriously, they don’t take themselves too seriously. I love the way Pastor Mike says in Sunday School, “Here’s a question. Now I want you to read my mind before you answer.” Or Pastor Erika says, “I am the most agenda-less person I know.” Or “You see what’s listed in the bulletin? We’re not going to do that,” or “Here’s where I was hoping we would get in this lesson. We didn’t get there.” Even the leaders of our congregation seem to accept themselves—with all of their gifts and limitations—with good humor. They accept that sometimes God’s agenda is different than ours, that the best-laid plans sometimes go awry. They stay calm. They are good models for those of us who sometimes get too excited when things don’t go according to plan.
Fourthly, SCC gets itself. The first Sunday I was there, I read in the bulletin: “SHORELINE COVENANT CHURCH is the name given to a group of people seeking to be, individually and together, everything God wants us to be.” I like that; we don't claim to have arrived; we are all becoming together. This is a place where I was accepted as I was, given an opportunity to serve and grow, and without any sense of guilt or pressure, encouraged to continue becoming all that God had created me to be. This is a body that seeks to have a meaningful impact in the local community, and while still struggling to discern what that might mean, does what it can right now in the form of service to the local elementary school or a Halloween Family Fun event or gifts of safety supplies to day laborers. And so (and this list is far from complete):
•To all of you who came to the Sunday School class that Darrel and I taught together and claimed to be blessed by it
•To Audrey and Barb K. for serving cake and asking me about my life every week
•To Barb W for your kindness to me when I first showed up with Darrel
•To Candace for remembering my daughter
•To Cindy for hosting a wedding shower for me
•To Debbie for asking about my son in Iraq
•To Dennis for catering our wedding when you thought there would be 25 guests and it was more like 200
•To Doug and Katie for Tuesday nights, even when I was just Darrel’s neighbor
•To Doug for inviting me to sing on worship team
•To Erika for sharing in my English class
•To Flo and Keith for Shakespeare
•To Kailee and Macy for being the most beautiful flower girls ever
•To Mike for lending me books
•To Patty and John for helping out at the reception even though you didn’t know me
•To Sam for processing with me every Monday night
•To Sue for the gift of your violin
•To so many others, too numerous to mention here, who have loved me with God’s self-giving love and enabled me to grow in my love for God and others—thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are why I love Shoreline Covenant Church; you are Shoreline Covenant Church.
Since the time I left for college at age 17, my family never again regularly worshipped together. As each of us left home for college and marriage and all the other usual adult activities, we somehow never ended up in the same church again, at least not all at the same time. Of course some of this was because we didn’t always live in the same town, but some of it was due to divergent ideas about what church should be, divergent needs and expectations, and divergent preferred worship styles. I could not see how the longing to have my extended family with me at church would ever be fulfilled, so I suppressed it. Eventually we moved to the Seattle area and found a church home here.
During and after my divorce in 2006, I briefly attended a friend’s church while I was trying to get my feet back beneath me, and I will always be grateful for the care they extended to me, but I never felt completely at home there. When Darrel and I became friends (I had bought the condo next door to his), we eventually visited each other’s churches. Immediately, I felt welcome at Shoreline Covenant Church, a feeling I chalked up to being with Darrel, because everyone who has met him knows and loves him. But I did notice that two of his brothers and their families attended SCC as well. The alternate visits continued, as did my relationship with Darrel.
Eventually, much to the surprise of both of us, Darrel and I decided to get married. And, much to Darrel’s surprise, I told him that I wanted to go to SCC permanently. He had been willing, and indeed expected, to attend the church that was my temporary resting place during that long transition in my life. One of the reasons that SCC was so attractive to me was Darrel’s extended family. Finally, the longing I had carried in my heart for so many years to worship and be regularly involved in the lives of an extended family in church together could be fulfilled.
I believe that when the Bible says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4), it means not only that he will give us things we desire, but also that he is actually the one who creates the desire within us. I believe God planted the desire for an extended family worship experience long before I ever met Darrel. And when that desire was met, I sensed the nearness of God in a new way. When I sit in church, and Darrel’s brother Doug and wife Katie are sitting behind us, and their daughter Sarah and her husband and three children are nearby, and Darrel’s brother Dan and wife Cindy and their two daughters are sitting next to us, I sense God’s love for me all over again.
But there’s more. I’ve been attending SCC regularly for about two years or so now, and I find that I look forward to church, can’t wait to be there, am sorry when circumstances or illness force me to miss church. Maybe you are the kind of person who has always loved church, but I can’t honestly say that I have always really wanted to be there; sometimes I have gone to church just because I should, not because anything in particular draws me there. But it’s different at Shoreline. Although there is nothing flashy about the Sunday morning experience—we don’t even have a video projection system, for pete’s sake—my heart is filled with a gladness so profound that I am almost embarrassed by it each week as I await the start of the service. As I have pondered this recently, I have identified a few things that draw me back again and again.
First of all, SCC people are genuinely welcoming. I know that being with Darrel was a natural opener for many people to talk to me, but that doesn’t explain it all. I went to a women’s event which my sister-in-law Cindy promised to attend with me, but at the last moment she couldn’t go, so I went by myself. Most of the women there did not know me personally, but I was busy in conversation and activity for the entire morning. At no point did my natural shyness (yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I actually find the process of meeting new people to be somewhat grueling) win the day; I went home glad that I had been there, and with names attached to several new faces. Every Sunday someone asks me a specific question about a specific detail of my life. Often I have a conversation with someone I have never met before who wants to ask me a question because, for instance, they heard I was going to seminary. SCC’s members are not just doing their duty; they are spilling forth the self-giving, others-centered love of God. They are genuinely interested in one another’s lives. I want to be like them; I try to emulate them, to copy them, to memorize their love-strategies, because I have been loved by their interest in me.
Secondly, SCC provides space for silence, built into the fabric of worship. I cannot remember in my nearly 50 previous years of church attendance a regular experience of silence as a legitimate and welcomed part of worship. A period of silence shortly after the service begins invites us to orient ourselves to God’s presence “in the quietness of our hearts.” A period for silence and sharing our needs and joys, where no one is expected to speak but we may if we wish share something that is on our hearts, often comes later in the service. Occasionally, we are invited to come forward and pray with a staff member or board member, and we are specifically asked to give one another the freedom to participate without morbid curiosity. We even have whole services devoted to silence—without music, without conversation, with Scripture readings and prayer and little else. Our services are not rushed, not cramped; we have time to breathe and reflect between this song and that reading and the next prayer. We have time to sense God’s interaction with us instead of somehow trying to demand it with a ceaseless flow of words, music, and noise. The ebb and flow of silence and sound creates context and space for me to worship more fully.
Thirdly, although almost all the people I know at SCC take their relationship with God pretty seriously, they don’t take themselves too seriously. I love the way Pastor Mike says in Sunday School, “Here’s a question. Now I want you to read my mind before you answer.” Or Pastor Erika says, “I am the most agenda-less person I know.” Or “You see what’s listed in the bulletin? We’re not going to do that,” or “Here’s where I was hoping we would get in this lesson. We didn’t get there.” Even the leaders of our congregation seem to accept themselves—with all of their gifts and limitations—with good humor. They accept that sometimes God’s agenda is different than ours, that the best-laid plans sometimes go awry. They stay calm. They are good models for those of us who sometimes get too excited when things don’t go according to plan.
Fourthly, SCC gets itself. The first Sunday I was there, I read in the bulletin: “SHORELINE COVENANT CHURCH is the name given to a group of people seeking to be, individually and together, everything God wants us to be.” I like that; we don't claim to have arrived; we are all becoming together. This is a place where I was accepted as I was, given an opportunity to serve and grow, and without any sense of guilt or pressure, encouraged to continue becoming all that God had created me to be. This is a body that seeks to have a meaningful impact in the local community, and while still struggling to discern what that might mean, does what it can right now in the form of service to the local elementary school or a Halloween Family Fun event or gifts of safety supplies to day laborers. And so (and this list is far from complete):
•To all of you who came to the Sunday School class that Darrel and I taught together and claimed to be blessed by it
•To Audrey and Barb K. for serving cake and asking me about my life every week
•To Barb W for your kindness to me when I first showed up with Darrel
•To Candace for remembering my daughter
•To Cindy for hosting a wedding shower for me
•To Debbie for asking about my son in Iraq
•To Dennis for catering our wedding when you thought there would be 25 guests and it was more like 200
•To Doug and Katie for Tuesday nights, even when I was just Darrel’s neighbor
•To Doug for inviting me to sing on worship team
•To Erika for sharing in my English class
•To Flo and Keith for Shakespeare
•To Kailee and Macy for being the most beautiful flower girls ever
•To Mike for lending me books
•To Patty and John for helping out at the reception even though you didn’t know me
•To Sam for processing with me every Monday night
•To Sue for the gift of your violin
•To so many others, too numerous to mention here, who have loved me with God’s self-giving love and enabled me to grow in my love for God and others—thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are why I love Shoreline Covenant Church; you are Shoreline Covenant Church.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
10 Little Things I Love
1. The way my hair looks when I first get up in the morning—I wish I could just neaten it up a little and spray it and go, but that never works.
2. When the dip and the chips you dish up end at exactly the same bite—Otherwise, I have to keep getting more dip and/or more chips until it comes out even. Same thing, but with homemade cookies and milk.
3. A nap before dinner—I have never been a napper, but I hit that half-century mark recently, so now the most delicious feeling is giving in and falling asleep on the loveseat.
4. My own stuff—I hate using someone else’s tennis racquet, golf clubs, car, socks, bathroom, toothbrush, whatever.
5. Office supplies—Seriously, I could stand for hours at Office Depot fondling the Post-It notes, paper clips, various sizes of envelopes, ink cartridges, accessories for personal planners, short little Sharpies on key chains . . .
6. Not setting the alarm—On Saturdays, I often wake up at the same time as I do on weekdays, but not to the horrible screech of the alarm. Plus, I know I can go back to sleep without guilt if I want to.
7. Clean sheets, clean PJs, clean bodies, all at the same time.
8. Crossing things off my list—The truth is, even though I hate being too busy, I hate doing nothing even more, and I love a sense of accomplishment. I’m one of those nuts who will write tasks on my list after I’ve already done them and then cross them off, so at the end of the day I have a visual record of my successes. Laundry counts as five items: sort, wash, dry, fold, put away.
9. Design shows on TV—I’m seriously addicted, and I don’t even have much space in this 847-square-foot condo to decorate. Favorites include Color Splash, Divine Design, and Design on a Dime. How can I get them to come to Seattle and help me with my guest room/office/craft room? (Note from Emily: You mean MY room?) I get a big kick, too, out of noticing when they are shopping at the same fine establishments that I frequent; for instance, the chrome floral bowl that sits on my coffee table I have seen on Divine Design (Candice Olson shops at IKEA a lot, I think.) AND Deserving Design.
10. Having someone else to take out the trash—If you are an astute reader, you will notice all the subtext in that one.
2. When the dip and the chips you dish up end at exactly the same bite—Otherwise, I have to keep getting more dip and/or more chips until it comes out even. Same thing, but with homemade cookies and milk.
3. A nap before dinner—I have never been a napper, but I hit that half-century mark recently, so now the most delicious feeling is giving in and falling asleep on the loveseat.
4. My own stuff—I hate using someone else’s tennis racquet, golf clubs, car, socks, bathroom, toothbrush, whatever.
5. Office supplies—Seriously, I could stand for hours at Office Depot fondling the Post-It notes, paper clips, various sizes of envelopes, ink cartridges, accessories for personal planners, short little Sharpies on key chains . . .
6. Not setting the alarm—On Saturdays, I often wake up at the same time as I do on weekdays, but not to the horrible screech of the alarm. Plus, I know I can go back to sleep without guilt if I want to.
7. Clean sheets, clean PJs, clean bodies, all at the same time.
8. Crossing things off my list—The truth is, even though I hate being too busy, I hate doing nothing even more, and I love a sense of accomplishment. I’m one of those nuts who will write tasks on my list after I’ve already done them and then cross them off, so at the end of the day I have a visual record of my successes. Laundry counts as five items: sort, wash, dry, fold, put away.
9. Design shows on TV—I’m seriously addicted, and I don’t even have much space in this 847-square-foot condo to decorate. Favorites include Color Splash, Divine Design, and Design on a Dime. How can I get them to come to Seattle and help me with my guest room/office/craft room? (Note from Emily: You mean MY room?) I get a big kick, too, out of noticing when they are shopping at the same fine establishments that I frequent; for instance, the chrome floral bowl that sits on my coffee table I have seen on Divine Design (Candice Olson shops at IKEA a lot, I think.) AND Deserving Design.
10. Having someone else to take out the trash—If you are an astute reader, you will notice all the subtext in that one.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Top Ten Reasons Why I Cannot Get My Homework Done on Time
I teach junior high and high school students, so I know about excuses. “The dog ate my homework” has morphed into “My printer blew up,” but the kinds of excuses and their frequency are pretty consistent over the years. I started a graduate program in theology this summer, and now I am the one keeping up with homework. With my summer schedule, I should be able to manage. I am a good reader and writer, and I am interested in the topics at hand. So why oh why am I behind? I have three more papers to write for the class I finished two weeks ago, and I just now finished my reading for yesterday’s class period. I have yet to begin the reading due today, let alone what I should have done before tomorrow’s class period. So here is my list of excuses, and I swear every single excuse is true.
10. I am interested in everything, so when I am reading my digital library sources, I click on every red, green, brown, or blue word that leads to a link that explains everything. This essentially doubles or triples my reading time.
9. I got the wrong copy of the course outline and ordered the wrong book.
8. I got the wrong copy of the course outline which did not include any of the pre-class assignments on it, including “Begin a careful reading of Acts to Revelation” and “Read as much of Dunn’s [2000 page book] . . . as possible.”
7. I had to go to my own 50th birthday party.
6. I live in an 850 square foot condo, and when my daughter or husband have the television on, there is nowhere to flee from its presence—and between the two of them, it is always on.
5. I ordered a book from an Amazon seller, and they accidentally sent it to the wrong person.
4. One word: Facebook
3. Some of my extended family has been visiting from out of town.
2. Three words: America’s Got Talent
And the number one reason I cannot get my homework done on time: I started a blog.
10. I am interested in everything, so when I am reading my digital library sources, I click on every red, green, brown, or blue word that leads to a link that explains everything. This essentially doubles or triples my reading time.
9. I got the wrong copy of the course outline and ordered the wrong book.
8. I got the wrong copy of the course outline which did not include any of the pre-class assignments on it, including “Begin a careful reading of Acts to Revelation” and “Read as much of Dunn’s [2000 page book] . . . as possible.”
7. I had to go to my own 50th birthday party.
6. I live in an 850 square foot condo, and when my daughter or husband have the television on, there is nowhere to flee from its presence—and between the two of them, it is always on.
5. I ordered a book from an Amazon seller, and they accidentally sent it to the wrong person.
4. One word: Facebook
3. Some of my extended family has been visiting from out of town.
2. Three words: America’s Got Talent
And the number one reason I cannot get my homework done on time: I started a blog.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Second Half
Today I am 50 years old. Most people hate turning 50. For that matter, many people hate acknowledging birthdays at all. I had a party (or rather my husband and daughters and best friend threw me a party) and welcomed my fiftieth birthday with open arms. Why? I am, after all, older and wrinklier and heavier and tireder and slower and have to make more visits to the doctor (and dentist--cf. note on blog title) than when I was younger. I've failed in relationships, and I'm not as accomplished or successful as I would like to be, and I often say the wrong thing in public. I have yet to write, let alone publish, my first book.
But I'm happier. And although happiness isn't everything, it's something--a big something that gives me energy and hope for the rest of the journey. My grandmother lived to 98 years of age (and with her hair naturally brown, I might add!), so I feel justified in saying I could be beginning the second half of my life. I have in some ways my life over again to get things right. Besides all the limitations of age, how will the second half of my life be different?
For one, I hope I am finally beginning to learn from my mistakes. I was reading the other day in John 5 about Jesus' healing of the man at the pool in Bethesda. He asked the man who had been an invalid for 38 years, "Do you want to get well?" Simple question--and it knocked me flat. Do I want to get well? We sometimes have a vested interest in being sick: physically, spiritually, emotionally. Do I want to be a better person? Do I want to smooth out my rough edges? Am I willing to do what it takes to be healthy? Do I want to learn from my mistakes? Do I want to grow? Or do I want to rationalize and justify and complain away all those imperfections and flaws and biases and judgments? One implication of Jesus' question is that he does not heal until we give permission. Is it possible that I'm less healthy than I could be because I have not assented to my own health and growth? If that's the case, then I answer, today, Yes, I want to get well. Maybe on weaker days I merely want to want to get well. Regardless, I will endeavor daily to choose the way of wholeness.
For another, I now know that love really is what makes the world go round, all you need is love, love is a many splendored thing, love is the answer, love, love, love. The two great commandments Jesus taught, paring down the whole law to these principles, are simply love God and love others. I have not always been very good at this, and unfortunately it's often the people I cherish the most who know this about me. I confess to being completely inadequate, to not knowing how to love, to being too worried about my own insecurities to love. Admittedly, it's not easy to love when my own feelings are hurt or when someone is attacking my reputation or my motives or when someone disappoints me. But I get that love is the only answer; nothing else makes anything better. So I will endeavor daily to choose the way of love.
And thirdly (because the best sermons have three points), I can finally trust that I am who I am supposed to be. This "me" is not an accident, it has purpose and calling, its uniquenesses are necessary to some small corner of the world, and I don't have to apologize for being this crazy confluence of strengths and weaknesses, gifts and limitations, qualities and flaws, beauties and uglies, and lots of in-between. Learning to "become what I am" is the greatest gift of getting older. Part of the reason I married my husband a year ago is that, when I am with him, I find it easier to be my best self and so diminish the power of my insecurities and flaws (oh, they are still there and come out from hiding when I least expect it, but I can feel their icy talons loosening from my throat). So I will endeavor daily to choose to be my best self and to quit apologizing for who that is.
Three daily endeavors I think are enough for anyone, but I have no illusions that I have the power to carry them out for even one day. I will depend on the God of love for that power, and learning to live in union with God's love is the only power that makes these goals even possible. I'll make mistakes. I'll fail. I'll procrastinate. But I'll also know that's not the end of the story.
So I had a party and said, "Yes, I'm 50!" I celebrated with friends and family, the people I want to love more fully, the people to whom I'm grateful for loving me, the people in whose presence I am becoming what I am. I have a long journey still ahead of me, but a big part of it is now behind me. I'm not the same person I was 10, 20, 30 years ago, and thank God! Nor am I yet who I will be, and thank God! A friend wrote this birthday wish to me today: "I hope the world is ready for what you are becoming!" I hope I am becoming more whole, more loving, more myself--and more empowered by the God of love.
But I'm happier. And although happiness isn't everything, it's something--a big something that gives me energy and hope for the rest of the journey. My grandmother lived to 98 years of age (and with her hair naturally brown, I might add!), so I feel justified in saying I could be beginning the second half of my life. I have in some ways my life over again to get things right. Besides all the limitations of age, how will the second half of my life be different?
For one, I hope I am finally beginning to learn from my mistakes. I was reading the other day in John 5 about Jesus' healing of the man at the pool in Bethesda. He asked the man who had been an invalid for 38 years, "Do you want to get well?" Simple question--and it knocked me flat. Do I want to get well? We sometimes have a vested interest in being sick: physically, spiritually, emotionally. Do I want to be a better person? Do I want to smooth out my rough edges? Am I willing to do what it takes to be healthy? Do I want to learn from my mistakes? Do I want to grow? Or do I want to rationalize and justify and complain away all those imperfections and flaws and biases and judgments? One implication of Jesus' question is that he does not heal until we give permission. Is it possible that I'm less healthy than I could be because I have not assented to my own health and growth? If that's the case, then I answer, today, Yes, I want to get well. Maybe on weaker days I merely want to want to get well. Regardless, I will endeavor daily to choose the way of wholeness.
For another, I now know that love really is what makes the world go round, all you need is love, love is a many splendored thing, love is the answer, love, love, love. The two great commandments Jesus taught, paring down the whole law to these principles, are simply love God and love others. I have not always been very good at this, and unfortunately it's often the people I cherish the most who know this about me. I confess to being completely inadequate, to not knowing how to love, to being too worried about my own insecurities to love. Admittedly, it's not easy to love when my own feelings are hurt or when someone is attacking my reputation or my motives or when someone disappoints me. But I get that love is the only answer; nothing else makes anything better. So I will endeavor daily to choose the way of love.
And thirdly (because the best sermons have three points), I can finally trust that I am who I am supposed to be. This "me" is not an accident, it has purpose and calling, its uniquenesses are necessary to some small corner of the world, and I don't have to apologize for being this crazy confluence of strengths and weaknesses, gifts and limitations, qualities and flaws, beauties and uglies, and lots of in-between. Learning to "become what I am" is the greatest gift of getting older. Part of the reason I married my husband a year ago is that, when I am with him, I find it easier to be my best self and so diminish the power of my insecurities and flaws (oh, they are still there and come out from hiding when I least expect it, but I can feel their icy talons loosening from my throat). So I will endeavor daily to choose to be my best self and to quit apologizing for who that is.
Three daily endeavors I think are enough for anyone, but I have no illusions that I have the power to carry them out for even one day. I will depend on the God of love for that power, and learning to live in union with God's love is the only power that makes these goals even possible. I'll make mistakes. I'll fail. I'll procrastinate. But I'll also know that's not the end of the story.
So I had a party and said, "Yes, I'm 50!" I celebrated with friends and family, the people I want to love more fully, the people to whom I'm grateful for loving me, the people in whose presence I am becoming what I am. I have a long journey still ahead of me, but a big part of it is now behind me. I'm not the same person I was 10, 20, 30 years ago, and thank God! Nor am I yet who I will be, and thank God! A friend wrote this birthday wish to me today: "I hope the world is ready for what you are becoming!" I hope I am becoming more whole, more loving, more myself--and more empowered by the God of love.
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