Aging Up

Today I'm aging up. 

It is a particularly cold day in upstate.  Every January I question my purpose in being in this part of the country.  Why does it have to be so cold?  I never take a birthday off work.  I don't want to waste precious days so early in the year; it's just not right.  However, this year, I decided that I would take some time to invest in rest and peace. My plan did not actually come to fruition but, sometimes, a diverted path leads to blessing. Remember that, when you feel like you are not going in the direction you intend.  My life has been full as the result of many a diverted path.

My husband planned a lovely celebration for me which was a surprise and not quite such a humble gathering. Two days later I finally have the time to sort through the emotional wreckage and draw out some data.

1) I am not at all ungrateful for the love and effort on the part of so many to execute this plan.  I've been in your shoes; I know it takes work.

2) Plan to give some grace when you are throwing a surprise party.  You are placing A LOT of expectation on the receiver.  Like all your hopes, dreams, and money pinned to one outcome.  It is an overwhelming amount of pressure to receive well.  We don't all succeed in living up to the perfect reception. I've thrown many surprise gatherings, always with the intention to bless, but it never occurred to me to consider the pressure it places.  I really will be much more thoughtful about it in the future.

3) Givers generally don't receive well. We simply don't know how to do it. I am in a season of life where I only want to receive; I  am burned out in all areas of my life, yet I can't manage to rest and receive.

4) I am still extremely and almost-sick-to-my-stomach embarrassed that I could not handle the pressure. So many dear-to-me faces all staring and hopeful.  My mind couldn't comprehend what my eyes were seeing.  There is my Mom who should be in Georgia.  There is my Dad who should be in Florida. My brothers from Ohio. My Aunt and Uncle from New Jersey.   My friends who should be in Utah and Idaho.  I can't translate in such quick succession what it means that they are in a restaurant, hours after a January snow storm, two miles from my house.

If you don't yet know the answer.... 

It's love.

They have pinned all their hopes and dreams on me for love.  I am unable to sustain the weight of the money, time, and effort spent.  I don't know how to receive these gifts so generous and selfless.

I am reminded that it is a privilege to age.  Each milestone should be welcomed and I intend to live with that philosophy. But what makes it truly a privilege is the investment you make....

My husband said many wonderful things this morning while I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it and inquire on how my sanity appeared to the masses.   He said: "You deserve this and so much more. You pour your whole life into this family.   You gave a piece of yourself to every person in that room. I didn't have to try too hard to get people to come and you can see for yourself how far people were willing to go."

Gentle readers, it was a little bit like my own "George Bailey" moment. (There is no insinuation that I have saved any one's life.)

Gentle readers, know that it was difficult for me to receive well, but my heart (eyes) is overflowing. 

Gentle readers, if I can continue to push and push on this one issue....give yourself away.  Invest in other people.  Be passionate about connecting with others.  Pursue Jesus - the community you will find there lasts an eternity. 

My life is a privilege because of investment.  People have invested in me for forty years.  In turn, I learned how to output investment which generates other investors and brings us all together in one spot.

Jesus is the greatest investor.  He gave His life to save mine and calls me His own.  There is no greater security blanket from which to begin an investment company.  I encourage you to do the same.

I am grateful for every person who came to see me.  I am grateful for every person who was perhaps invited and unable to attend.  I am grateful for every person perhaps not invited because guest lists can only be so long, but who would have been willing to come.   It deeply warms my heart, it makes me lose every shred of my dignity in the corner of the restaurant, it gives me hope for every tomorrow.

I feel undeserving of such an outpouring.  Such humble thanks I give for the gift of love that cannot be demanded, bought or sold, only freely given.  May it give me renewed energy to forward the gift to others. 

For All the Marbles

Being a woman. It's unfair.

It's unfair that you live all your life in pursuit of your family.  You give up sleep, the most precious of all the things, to change poopy pants McGee. You watch infomercials and beg that bottle to empty faster.  

It's unfair that while you pursue your family, time is watching, waiting, and moving swiftly.  You catch a ride one October night and before you know it, it's March, two decades later.  You see no bottles, no toys, only a young man heading out the door.  In desperation, you say, "Wait!" but Time, that old guy, has lost his hearing.  

It's unfair that you give yourself away. Constantly. And when it's time to focus on yourself, you want only to continue to give but the moment is past. 

It's unfair that no one prepares you for the overwhelming emotional journey you must take as your nest starts to empty and your body prepares for menopause.

I never understood how painful aging would be.  I was unprepared.  I am unprepared. I am pure liquid loss.

I can feel Noah's small, chubby hand in mine. I hear him saying: "I don't want him" when Aaron finally comes home from the hospital. I see Aaron's baby chunk and his insatiable sense of style from age three onward.  (He rocked a suit jacket, sweat pants and flip flops like nobody's business.)  I hear: "Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mom" and then it slows to an almost grinding halt. When was I last needed so desperately?   I can't recall.

High school orientation is in three weeks.  High school will be over with a click of my finger.

It's so complicated - womanhood, motherhood. You have emotions, hormones, chemicals coursing through your body.  You have demands on your time, your mind, your soul.

You realize that sometimes you are permitted to wave a white flag.  You are allowed to say, "I can't."  Sometimes wounds need gauze and attention.

I tell these sweet boys, "I can't bear you growing up. Mommy is going to be so lost without you." They giggle, and they give me hugs and they say, "Oh, Mother, it's fine, you're fine, plus maybe we won't move out."   Wait. What?

It's no wonder I have lost all my marbles.

For the love. Of all the rollercoasters I am on.

And Now Abides

It's late on a Friday night. The dishwasher is running because no one likes it to run during the day.  The Christmas tree has been down for a week but there are a few straggling lights and tinsel to remind me that the holiday was recently here.  It's cold. I think I say that about every place in which I find myself.  Does heat exist anywhere?

I feel empty.  Really empty.

Sometimes it happens in this life.  Sometimes it is by choice and sometimes it just creeps in.

I recently visited my grandfather and that took a deep, deep toll on me.  When my husband picked me up at the airport at 2330 on a Monday night, I was toast.  It was the worst flight of my life because I felt very unwell, my ears would not pop and it was excruciating, and I was holding back a sea of churning emotions.  Ryan said, "I know you left a piece of your heart..." and that's all I heard.  Hugging my Grandpa in the car at the MARTA station, feeling very much like it was my very last, was wonderful and painful and quick and slow and time felt like it had stopped and started a thousand times.  I didn't say anything of value as you might expect, because. Useless.  I am absolutely useless in times like this.  You expect a grand speech from the wordsmith  and you will always get nothing. My Grandpa has been my best birthday pal, Scrabble opponent, hero of faith, Sunday dinner neighbor-to-the-right for 40 years, and I cannot find the word for "goodbye."  My grief was so deep that Monday night that I felt it would suffocate me. Grandpa, you have been witness to my whole life.  You still believe in me after all this time; that is no small thing.  I am profoundly honored to be one of the apples on your family tree.

Cue the busy, exhausting holidays. I start taking a medication that has difficult side effects, and there is no rest when you work in health care; in fact, it is worse than usual during the holidays.  I try to spread Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear.  Cue the grumpy people:  "Why are you singing?"  Well, Scrooge McDuck, I'm singing because you need a real attitude adjustment and "Jingle Bells" is the best cure.  This goes on for several days, with several people coughing and not covering their mouths, and snotting and snorfling, and singing until.....it's the new year and you are sick....at the hands of these grumpy non-singing cheermeisters.   Then in two short days, a dear family friend meets Jesus face-to-face; a new, chubby, sweet baby niece is welcomed; and you cannot sustain another day.

That's today, gentle readers, that's today.

I have nothing left to give.  I have given the best years of my life in just five short weeks, and now I am done.

Everything hurts (my entire left arm, my right wrist, my head, my heart, my throat, my lungs).  I am waiting for death or the ticking of the clock to tell me to get up and care a bit.

Love has weighted me down and lifted me high.  I fear that sometimes love costs too much.  It seems it would be better to be alone and then nothing would overwhelm.  No outside parties would prey on your emotions and cause you grief.

It seems right and logical.

But I would bear all the grief, a hundredfold, if it means I have paid the cost of love.  For while the price is high, the stakes are permanent. Love always leaves a mark.  Always you will be changed for the better.  Always you will know abiding joy coupled with deep grief.

"And now abides faith, hope, and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love."