Saturday I turn 44.
I look 44.
A few years ago, I tried really hard to hide the fact that I was in my 40s.
I was, in fact, idiotic. It happens.
Now, each day, I look in the mirror and think, Hey, only one new wrinkle. Dang girl, you're looking good!
Yeah. At some point, I had this shift. Instead of all the stuff going wrong, I started being really grateful for all the stuff that's going right.
Which tops my list:
1. Glad to be alive, just because I am ALIVE. It's a blessing to be able to be in this miraculous world right at this moment.
2. Watching my children grow up. Rearing children is the stuff of jugglers, optimists, heroes, mathematicians, estheticians, nutritionalists and magicians. Watching them leap out of the nest and fly, more awesome (and terrifying) than I ever expected. Moses, it's amazing. Thank you, God, for letting me be here to watch this . . . please help me not to mess it up.
3. Understanding the power of hugs. They are precious and gifts given free of charge that make the very most difference ever. They can literally heal my heart. I give them as often as I possibly can and share them with everyone.
4. My parents, the ones I was born to, and the ones I inherited through marriage. I knew I loved them, but as I spend more years being a parent, my love and appreciation for them knows no bounds. I am who I am and the parent/inlaw I am because of them. I have made it through the happy and dark times directly because of their love, sacrifice, wisdom, laughter, and optimism. My best attributes are a reflection of their goodness and kindness. Thank you for forging such a clear and easy path for me to follow in your footsteps. God knew I'd need a clear one so He sent me all of you . . . Thank Heavens!
5. Money. For years, it's been such a huge force in my life. The getting, saving, spending of it (or trying not to) has ruled my life. Turns out, once you get older, for me at least, it looses it's appeal. Sure, I like nice things, but if buying them means I can't travel, it's a no go. Pay bills, make sure everyone has enough clothes so they're not naked, food that's good enough, lots of fruit, and some money for dinner now and then with John, I'm golden. The rest . . . saved for seeing the world. It doesn't take much. Money, you my friend now. Thank you for giving me memories with my most precious people.
6. Laughter. Finally, at long last totally understand the healing balm of it. Best medicine EVER. Best therapy, cure, answer to any question, and meaning of life. Thank you, Laughter, for giving me back my childhood on the daily.
7. Brave. You can't be a mother and not learn how to be brave. I am/was the biggest chicken liver that ever was born. No rollercoasters for me. Heights? Heck NO! If there was a chance of even the tiniest bit of risk, HARD NO. Then I gave birth to five dare devils. Without me, they couldn't go on roller coasters. So I went. Without me they couldn't hike Angels Landing. So I went (and will never do that again . . . my heart couldn't take it). Without me, they wouldn't learn how to drive. So I taught them (and my hands are sweaty even thinking about it). Flying? Hate it. To show my babies the world, I fly. I am am BRAVE.
8. NO and Yes. No, is the second most important word I've learned in my years. Saying no, means I can say yes to a lot. I know my limits now (from pretty much having repeated melt downs) and I know when the best word to use in a given situation is no. And I know, as with all words of power, you should use it sparingly. It can bless your life, but too many of them, can curse it. Where as YES, the most important word I've learned, should be used as often as possible. Going through a year of saying "yes" taught me the most important lesson of my life--there is always more to give, more people to love, and that saying yes to good things (even if they are hard) blows your world wide open to good things. Yes, is the most beautiful answer. Thank you Yes and No for teaching me balance, generosity and control.
9. Beautiful. I've spent the last 43 years feeling just a little less. I didn't worry about it. I think most of us think we are a little less and we just deal with it. I didn't think I'd ever feel beautiful. I thought I was ok with that. But then, a few months ago, when in a dark place of worry and concern and inability to help those who needed help--they had to travel their own road--I looked in the mirror and I saw the lines, deep lines around my eyes. I saw my sagging cheeks and eyes, my graying hair, my aging hands, my aging everything and felt for the first time in my life utterly and completely beautiful.
When I was dressing my grandmother for her burial, with awe and wonder and tears, I began to understand what beauty truly is. With love and gentleness, we dressed her in white and as we did, I saw the strength of her legs and arms and the beauty of her one-breasted body. She was a warrior in her life. She survived the loss of her favorite and most beloved brother at 5, her father at 8 (I think), twins of her body, her husbands fidelity, her breast from cancer, and her most of her family, and finally her husband's death. She laughed way more than she cried. She loved with her whole entire soul everyone around her and we all felt it. And that beautiful body of hers showed it. She was 93 (I think) when she left us quietly in the night, slipping away while she slept.
Even now, I can't write about this without sobbing. These shells of ours, these beautiful bodies that house our infinitely precious spirits, tell the story of our heroism. Why would I want to erase one laugh line? Because I love to laugh and I am proud of the lines that have engraven themselves there through hours, weeks, months, years of laughter. Or the lines of my hands from years of washing and cleaning and gardening and writing and living and helping and hugging and wiping tears and rubbing backs and creating? Or the sag around my middle from my 10 pregnancies? Or the scars from adventures? Or the gray hairs from love which sometimes takes the form of worry?
No. I would not trade them for anything.
And that is why, when I looked in the mirror at the 43 year old self, I saw beauty. I saw the beginnings of the Warrior in me. I am, we all are, beautiful because we survivors and creators and dreamers and lovers.
10. John. As our children are beginning (at a young age it true) to discover love that shakes their world, I am reminded of how our, John and my, love shook our world. I do not take it for granted. It's hard won, on a daily basis. We are two strong, sometimes bull headed individuals, with independent thoughts and ideas, sensitive feelings, and different ways of expressing ourselves and our love. It's a struggle. Sometimes its a fight (which we prefer to call a "discussion"). But it's always, always real. And it's the very very best thing in my life. I knew John would change my world. I just didn't know he'd make it and become it. He keeps me on my toes and makes sure I don't wear stretchy pants everyday or old lady shoes. He keeps me feeling young. Secure. Seen. Heard. Important.
When I was deciding to marry him, I knew what I was getting into. I knew it would have some bumps. But I also knew, it would be the greatest adventure of my life and I would never regret jumping on this ride.
I haven't. At 44, he's the best part of getting older. Hands down. I have 24 years with him. Here's to 60 more.
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