Last week, my daughter and I took a drive. A 1500 mile drive from Atlanta to Colorado. She has a summer internship with the US Olympic Committee in Colorado Springs which requires her car. My protective mother genes thought that was much too long of a drive to make solo.
1500 miles provides lots of time for talking and listening to tunes, and lots and lots of time for thinking. (And yes, even for occasionally fussing at each other. Gotta be real here.)
Are you on “the back nine?” No, not the second half of an 18 hole golf match. The second half of your life! If you’re a guy over 39 or a gal over 41, then based on average US life expectancy, you’ve “made the turn.”
That’s not meant to be depressing. As the sands of time fall through the hourglass, it’s completely natural to wonder if the best of life is behind you.
In one simple word: the answer is NO!
Fear. So often it stops us in our tracks. Causes us to turn back, to worry, to wonder, to weigh the pros and cons and to play the “what if” game for way too long. Sometimes, we can evaluate decisions for so long that the choice or opportunity no longer exists.
So fear wins. And we lose. Sometimes, the world loses too.
Mother’s Day. For many, it’s a bright, sunny day of celebration. But for others, it’s a day of great heartache. If you’ve suffered the heart wrenching pain of losing a child, infertility, or the very loud ticking of the biological time clock, Mother’s Day can be rough. And for those who have recently lost their own mom, Mother’s Day often churns up fresh waves of grief.
So what do you do with this approaching holiday? How do you not just endure the day, but embrace it?
Ever have one of those days when you gained a whole lot of perspective in just a few hours? That happened to me several years ago, and the message is still seared in my brain.
It was a beautiful spring day, and it began with a group of fellow mothers. Our girls were classmates, and we were meeting for coffee at one woman’s lovely new home. This wasn’t just any home. It could rightly be described as a “megahome.” Huge. Beautiful. Completely decorated and accessorized. All of the contents seemed brand new.
If there’s such a thing as a “perfect day for a funeral,” Tuesday was it. Bright blue sky. Temperature warming. The certainty of Spring evident in the daffodils, the bright green grass, the trees beginning to flower. An absolutely glorious day. So glorious that it seemed to provide a foretaste of Heaven.
“It’s time for hospice care.” Those words initially hit like a sledgehammer on the hopes of a patient and their loved ones. Translation: “prepare for death.” Yet what initially seems like the worst possible prognosis also offers the possibility of an incredibly meaningful time because it gives people the chance to say goodbye.
We’ve all got one. That person who is “hard to love.” It might be a family member, neighbor, co-worker or fellow church member. When you think of the individual, the image of a porcupine comes to mind: the closer you get, the more painful the relationship becomes.
And the thought of writing a letter of blessing and affirmation to a person like that seems...well….hypocritical and phony.
It’s miraculous, really. The way that seeds travel and eventually sprout. Some seeds (like the unwanted dandelion) have wings like a glider. Some are carried by birds. Some “hitch” a ride on animal fur. Some are carried by water. Countless ways for one little seed to be carried to a new destination and germinate, and perhaps to eventually bear much fruit.
Ever heard the term “deer caught in the headlights?” It’s an analogy for being so frightened or surprised that you can’t move. And boy, have I been there lately. As I’ve tried to understand my paralysis, I’ve realized that because of uncertainty about the best way to move forward in pursuit of my dreams, I’ve allowed myself to just stop moving.