In Four Years, I'll be Sixty

There's a sobering "Happy Birthday to me!"  first thing in the morning. 


Today's my birthday and I'm 56. How did that happen? I'm not sure how 56 feels but I don't feel it. Most days I look in the mirror and I don't think I look it although people haven't said, "You can't possibly have children that old...." for a few years. Menopause bites.  But most days, I just don't think about it. 


But today is my birtday.  Our family didn't and still doesn't do up celebrations very well.  One of the nicest surprises of the last few years was when Paul mentioned how well we did do birthdays.  Really?  God bless your memory!   Oh, I tried usually- I did the cakes, parties every few years, "It's your day- what do YOU want to do?" questions.  I just don't do gifts well.  I try and I try and so rarely did I hit something JUST right.  Something that says, "I KNOW you and I KNOW this will just be perfect for you."


So if I was KNOWN.... what would my birthday gifts be? 


I'd wake up to soft sunshine and singing birds- well, thank you, Lord. I do wish the view out my window was of golden hills turning pale green in a western spring but I can't complain about the view out my Virginia window.  Pale light filters through all the shades of green and the dark greeny, brown tree trucks march out of sight into the verdant depths.  I just read a writer's article that said to never use verdant but it's my birthday and I'll do what I please.  And maybe figure out how to easily add a pic... later.


I'd open a card from a friend.  A real card from the postal service. An eloquent card of friendship. Not a birthday card- just a "thanks for lunch and talking" card.  You bless me, Lynn.


I'd plan to ride horseback and thank you, my friend Mary, who just invited me!  I rode a little Arabian / Welsh pony when I was a girl. My dad got Lark when he was just a yearling and in return, Daddy provided milk for a year to the family of horse breeders with six or seven girls.  Two long years  I cared for him and talked to him but could not ride - Arabians aren't broken to ride until they are three.  But it's what he could afford and it was the dream of my heart to own a horse.  So for my birthday, I'll plan a nostalgic ride.


I'd plan to join friends for something social, preferably outdoors with food involved.  Thank you, Donna, for suggesting the farmer's market and lunch in Manassas.  Looks like a lovely day to be together.  Thank you, Noreen, for taking time from work.  I miss you.


I'd dig in my garden with a friend.  Thank you, Beth, for our plan to do just that this afternoon.  I will miss this mess of green profusion when I move to a drier climate. It'll take some time to adjust from my current habit of ripping out bunches of plants, knowing that something will quickly grow into that open space.  I'll miss having an abundant of greens just outside my door to cut and add to any blooms of the season. 


I'd see at least one of my kids, if not all. The recent memory of having all four together this month will have to suffice for the all part but thank you, Drew, for coming down tonight.  I will miss being this close to you.  You have been a faithful help in so much of this process. This process of growing old, growing up! I have loved parenting you and your siblings; I cherish the frienships I have with each of you know as you grow into your own adulthoods. 


I'd talk to family and hear familiar voices. Birthdays have, for years, been events to share with my extended family over the phone, not around a table. It's a rare treat to be together.  Thank you, Mr. A Graham Bell, for inventing telephones!  Could you have foreseen a generation or two with constant attention to your device?  I don't sleep with my phone but it is usually pretty close by.


Well, look at that. Someone knows me. Someone is gifting me in ways that are simple yet precious to my soul.  Someone sees me and knows what I need today and every day.  Someone loves me. 


The simple truth is I've always been known. I just didn't know it. For most of my life, I have struggled with the feeling that no one really knew me. I considered myself transparent and vulnerable but not really known.  Like there was a part inside me that I didn't know how to let out or if it was safe to let out. That "What would people think if they really knew me?" place. If they  knew my dark secrets. My many insecurities. My petty thoughts. My irrational moments.  My grand thoughts! My dreams. 


And I took much of my frustration out on a long-suffering husband. Who, frankly, knew himself as much as he wanted, thought he knew me and  voiced, "Really, is life that complicated, Kathy?"  Yeah, for me it was. 




Was. 




Last month Abby went to Camp Lejuene, North Carolina, to check out her new home with her handsome, Marine husband. She called from the piney, coastal plains along the swamp that the USMC chose for their home base. "Mom, I CANNOT imagine YOU living here."  I can't either... now. 


But I was a different woman then. Competant on the outside, insecure inside. Battling depression; covering that battle with sarcasm and jokes. Scared.  Pregnant with hopes and dreams and three babies in my six years there.  Pregnant with fear that I wasn't enough. 


I vacuumed the house when my new "will she be my best friend?" neighbor came over for a visit. She wouldn't have even done that if her wildly sanguine husband hadn't called and invited themselves.  Good thing he called. That way I could vaccuum.  I look back and laugh. Rick and Jan have indeed become a life long relationship, our best friends. And I no longer vaccuum. 


I no longer battle depression. I won that fight. Now, on the rarer occasions it creeps in to my vulnerable soul, I scoot over and allow it to briefly remind me of my fragility. But I'm firm now- "soon, very soon you will have leave". And it does. And I'm stronger, again. 


I'm not insecure.  I'm not always scared.  I am finally enough. 


And it's because the person who didn't really know me... was me. 




I told Abby, "I'm not the same woman who lived there." And I'm not.  Years of experience, godly friendships, time in the Word and some judicious therapy has revealed me... to me.  


And I'm ok. Sometimes I'm still insecure, irrational, emotional, fragile.  Always complicated. But chiefly I'm a sinner saved by grace. I'm a child whose Father looks at her with love, with favor, with only good in His heart.  I've been broken but I'm mending. Too often, I'm afraid but I am chosing to trust. I'm enough only because He has made me His child and He is enough.  I am confident of a future and a hope because I can look back at a past of His mercy, provision and faithfulness. 






She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. KJV




Well, maybe not laugh... but certainly-




Strength and dignity are her clothing, And she smiles at the future. NASB 


or


Strength and self-respect are her clothing; she is facing the future with a smile. Bible in Basic English.


or










Wesley's Notes

Proverbs 31:25 

Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.

Strength - Strength of mind, magnanimity, courage, activity. Her clothing - Her ornament and glory. 

Rejoice - She lives in constant tranquillity of mind, from a just confidence in God's gracious providence.

I assume Wesley is John Wesley, son of Susanna Wesley. A woman who had amazing confidence in

"God's Gracious Providence".

So today is my birthday. I will chose to smile at the future, maybe laugh, or at least chuckle at the days to come. I will rejoice in a just confidence in God's gracious Providence.







Happy Birthday to me! 

Traveling in the Westtt

I left the Black Hills behind and am being slowing drawn back to the work of the East Coast.  Luckily, I can control the timing a bit and we headed south and WEST  before we'll head east.  It's been such a joy to have my wonderful friend, Donna Baker, with me.  She has never been west except to fly over to Arizona or California.  It's like having a kid in a candy store or a coma patient wake up. Well, that's an exaggeration but she has been so amazed at the beauty and difference of South Dakota.

I remarked how grateful I am to have someone to share in this and she asked me who else knew the me in this context, this western life.  My lifelong friends, Rick and Jan Hamme, came and shared in Bill's memorial time and they understand a bit.  My family of course- who can't understand why I'd live in the East.  But few others understand me in the fabric of the west and in my core, I'm a western chick.

I see the colors I have chosen for my house in the vast high desert landscape as we drive through Wyoming. I revel in the big sky and ever changing cloud formations.  I marvel at people who live in such splendid isolation and wonder at their stories.  I rejoice in long open, empty stretches of road to explore. I love the west.

Now we are back in civilized West. We're staying a night in Fort Collins- routinely voted one of America's top small cities or large towns to live in or retire in. It's the home of Colorado State University and it's hip and cool (although every Coloradoan would quickly say it's not as hip as Boulder and the University of Colorado).  It's family friendly, it has a cool walking court with artisan shops and a fountain.

And it was my home town for high school and college. I point out the church where we were married, my high school (converted to a performing arts center for the university across the street), my grandmother's small house. It's like coming home but not. I was a different person here all those years ago.  There has been tremendous growth in my home town - all those people who read the articles about where the best places to live decided to move here.  The downtown was scary when I was in high school and now it's thriving and busy.  There's so much to see and yet, I'm nervous about seeing something, someone from the past.  Maybe it's better to leave the memory solid and move on.

So we'll head a little more west and a little more south and we'll explore safer terrain. The neighboring cute town of Loveland, the artsy Estes Park at the edge of the Rocky Mountain National Park, maybe some downtown Denver.  Tonight, I'll cocoon at my beloved sister's place south of Denver. Safe. With someone who knows me. Me, that western chick.