Wow- so much for the discipline of daily writing! Oh well, life is full. Bad excuse.
I've just caught up on some blogs- my daughter's, her friends, the next generation. What fresh and funny voices speaking out into the world. I'm so inspired as I see their honesty and willingness to express themselves. I always thought my generation broke the whole "silent suffering" mold with our willingness to go to therapy and "address our issues" and "confront our lack of nuturing". Mostly dance with our inner child!
But these young women are vulnerable, wise, completely silly, profound, and shallow. All liviing life honestly, grappling with faith and marriage, and writing about it for the world to share- it seems to be a modern rite of passage to blog once you are married. I love it.
So what do I have to contribute to these fresh young voices? I feel old but wise, yet unheard- not because they don't want to hear what I say but because I don't say it. I still struggle with making the words perfect. Having something terribly profound to offer. Something completely original. What arrogance! My wisdom doesn't come from a life lived in a bubble but from the messes, the trials and the joys that I've stumbled through for the last 50+ years. Just as their words come from articulating their worlds, mine can come from sharing mine. Life has just as much to offer after 30 years of marriage as it did after 3. And perhaps I'm in a better frame of mind to receive.
Because that stumbling has become a bit of a confident stride some days. I like this seaons. I'm buying big jewelry at funky ethnic shops and fabrics from around the world that express my "the world's a wonderful place" mentality. I am treasuring the friendships of the women in my life more than ever . I'm beginning to enjoy the fruits of a life of faith, faith lived out in a frail human form that is filled with a spirit that is stronger.
I was talking with one of my sons and he expressed the responsiblity I have to not abuse the situation I find myself in. That makes it sound like I just woke up and "found" myself but I refuse to endlessly edit. And actually, in a way, I did wake up to find myself. I'm in a new season and it is a new wakefullness. Alone but not lonely. Provided for but not rich. A mother yet every month less of a care-giver. And always full of ideas, of ways to make a difference- to travel with intention, to create sacred spaces, to write, to speak, to be.
I've had three years to get over the shock of change, to parent the child, organize the paperwork, reorganize the brain- and I'm realizing that none of it will ever be a finished task. So... in the lack of perfect timing and circumstances, in the presence of an everloving Father; time to put pencil to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and see what happens.
I want to enjoy each season of my life. I don't wait until it's convienent to be who I'm supposed to be. To do what only I can do. Each day is full of possiblities. Mine's full of wonder at how life just gets fuller and fuller as the years fly by.
