Hello there, 40 - you've been a long time coming - so long, in fact, that I never thought I'd meet you in my early years. Yet, here you are and to hear it told, you're a pretty big deal. I've taken that to heart and am getting gussied up for your arrival: colored my hair, polished my toes, scheduled a trip and packed my finest (read: most flattering) clothes. I'm ready.
Mentally, these last days leading up to your arrival have been pensive - a time of taking stock - celebrating a life I never pictured when I imagined myself meeting you, while accepting some of the dreams from my younger years have probably passed me by. All in all, I'd rather be here than still the younger version of myself, for dreams left unrealized have already been replaced with ones I didn't have the audacity to imagine in my 20's. So cheers to you 40 - cozy up and settle in - we're gonna be on the same ride for a decade and I need to lay some ground rules.
1 - We will be wearing practical shoes
Truth: I own 2 pairs of high heels and really only intend to ever wear one of them - and they're Easy Spirit (the cool ones - not the orthotics). Why shoe designers haven't caught on to the need for comfort cushion on the ball of our feet - especially when crammed into pointed toes - is beyond me. Wedges - another story - I can wear those all day long. But for days when my vivofit surpasses 10,000 steps, look for me in runners - my Converse chucks for more dressy occasions - and expect no apologies for it.
2 - We will be going as many new places as we possibly can
Truth: I'd rather travel than leave my children a huge inheritance. Granted - I'm perfectly happy to take the kids with us wherever Philip and I go, so in some ways they're enjoying their inheritance now. I want to expose them to the world still under the protection of our wings for as long as possible, and if that means we have a smaller house and drive 'sensible' car(s), so be it. It's not even a trade-off really - less to clean, better gas mileage AND see the world - no brainer.
3 - We will laugh
Truth: I love to laugh so hard that tears roll down my cheeks and drip off my chin. This may mean that our makeup isn't always perfect and we might have unsightly goo in our noses, but it is also life-giving. At this point in the ride, I embrace anyone and anything that makes us live louder. My fondest memories to date are ones of legs reduced to jelly because laughs were too hard and deep. Soul food - laughter is mine.
4 - We will love
Truth: I will tell my family and dear friends I love them - a lot. Over the course of the years, I've walked alongside, witnessing friends and family who've had to say goodbye far too soon to beloved people in our lives. I've been reminded of the fragility of life and our calling to love deeply right now. Right. Now. I don't want anyone in my life who I hold close to ever doubt how dear they are to me - and you'll have to just be patient if that means I get mushy on occasion. You'll have to bear the tears when words aren't enough to convey the depth to which people can affect me. And you'll have to remember that love always wins - even if there are rough patches along the way.
5 - We will be present
Truth: Busy-ness robs us of life's sparkles. Since I blinked the day my children were born and they became their 11 and 8 year old selves overnight, I've made it my daily goal to really be present every moment. I'm still a work in progress in this department. There are days when the moments seem excruciatingly long and tedious but then there are moments that are so inexplicably tender that I'd have totally missed had I not forced myself to take a breath, look in their eyes and hear what they said without using a word. The moments that illustrate how the 'we' of Philip and me has grown so much broader and deeper than I even knew possible on our wedding day are breathtaking. And so in our presence we'll utter breath prayers of gratitude - for the good gifts of life and dear people and the experience of unconditional love.
6 - We will curse
Truth: Sometimes the ONLY word is one your mama taught you not to say. I've grown comfortable using these words and attempt to use them as a scalpel not a machete. You're going to have to accept that there are times I'll be in full potty-mouth mode and there's really no sense in feigning offense. It won't stop me and I won't apologize. I respect words and use them intentionally - sometimes they're of the four-letter variety.
My dear new-found companion/milestone/numerical definition - if you can abide by these rules we're going to get along just fine. And I'll keep coloring my hair, polishing my toes and scheduling as many big trips as the bank account can stand. You're welcome to come along on the ride, but if at any point you try to get stodgy and curmudgeon-y, I'll deny I know you and claim my former 30's self - you've officially been warned. Let's go dream new dreams, love until it hurts, laugh until we cry and savour every morsel along the way.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Life is Weird
I really think a long time about titles for blog posts - even if they're only a few words. This one's been rolling around in my head awhile with the accompanying words bumping in my brain like a pinball machine.
Life is weird.
Looking at the snow-capped Cascade Mountains feeling really small first awakened me to the notion. I never in a million years dreamed my Woodruff, SC, self would be living among such huge mountains where skis are accompanied by sunscreen. I grew up in a town that now has a population of about 4000 and I'm firmly planted in a city, living in a high rise apartment tower among a population of 600,000+. Weird.
While we rode along the Sea to Sky Highway between Vancouver and Whistler, I thought about the fact that mountain based winter sports have only been part of our reality for 3 years - an outgrowth of our move west. As it turns out, that's resulted in our children learning to ski at the #1 North American ski resort. We very intentionally live like tourists here - not wanting to miss an ounce of what this place has to offer. But I worry. I worry that we've set our children up for disappointment - knowing that they've cut their teeth at #1 of anything. What will they do/where will they go to top this? Their first concert experience happened here - in a luxury suite - Bon Jovi - for free. Weird. Beats my New Kids on the Block regular seats at Furman many moons ago by a mile (though I'd totally go see NKOTB again). We're spoiled - simply by virtue of place and the people who are in our lives.
Conversely, we've been grounded in ways I'd never have imagined either. Our kids' school boasts 40+ language groups and the cultures that go with them. Our children's world view is being shaped through relationships and they've learned how to communicate even when they don't share common language with a classmate. We've visited houses of worship from various backgrounds - places I'd only read about when I was their age because our little town didn't have a mosque or Hindu temple or Buddhist temple. Our family has had faith discussions far more intense than what I grew up with - because friends here believe all different sorts of things and we've experienced 'church' in new ways. This year, we've personally encountered refugees from Syria - raising money to help them buy transit passes and picture dictionaries as they've left everything they know to try and rebuild a life in a foreign land. We sleep with our windows open and hear how mental illness ravages some of our neighbors who spend their nights wandering streets with grocery carts talking (sometimes yelling) at people only they can hear/see. At times, I suffer from sensory overload - I'm humbled, grateful, amazed and slightly awestruck by our current reality.
All to say, I wonder (sometimes worry) about how we'll plug into wherever our next home might be. Will we be the 'weird ones' with all these graphic stories of intense human interactions? Will we be disappointed if we live in a flat landscape without water? Will our children have trouble fitting in if everyone looks like them and speaks their language? What will adjustment look like? How will we manage it? It's all just weird. But I read my new most favorite wall plaque when we were in Whistler lately and I'm claiming it - you'll one day see it hanging on my wall (once I get it painted). And now, now I'm OK with being the 'weird one', the misfit, the round peg in the square hole and I hope we run into those who see things differently wherever we go. For I've learned that what's most important is to be open - open to new places, new people, new experiences. God knows our family didn't get here because we stuck to a pre-determined path. It's in riding the waves that come our way that we sometimes are carried to where we most need to be. And so our family rides on - open to where the waves next take us and to the people we'll find there.
Life is weird.
Looking at the snow-capped Cascade Mountains feeling really small first awakened me to the notion. I never in a million years dreamed my Woodruff, SC, self would be living among such huge mountains where skis are accompanied by sunscreen. I grew up in a town that now has a population of about 4000 and I'm firmly planted in a city, living in a high rise apartment tower among a population of 600,000+. Weird.
While we rode along the Sea to Sky Highway between Vancouver and Whistler, I thought about the fact that mountain based winter sports have only been part of our reality for 3 years - an outgrowth of our move west. As it turns out, that's resulted in our children learning to ski at the #1 North American ski resort. We very intentionally live like tourists here - not wanting to miss an ounce of what this place has to offer. But I worry. I worry that we've set our children up for disappointment - knowing that they've cut their teeth at #1 of anything. What will they do/where will they go to top this? Their first concert experience happened here - in a luxury suite - Bon Jovi - for free. Weird. Beats my New Kids on the Block regular seats at Furman many moons ago by a mile (though I'd totally go see NKOTB again). We're spoiled - simply by virtue of place and the people who are in our lives.
Conversely, we've been grounded in ways I'd never have imagined either. Our kids' school boasts 40+ language groups and the cultures that go with them. Our children's world view is being shaped through relationships and they've learned how to communicate even when they don't share common language with a classmate. We've visited houses of worship from various backgrounds - places I'd only read about when I was their age because our little town didn't have a mosque or Hindu temple or Buddhist temple. Our family has had faith discussions far more intense than what I grew up with - because friends here believe all different sorts of things and we've experienced 'church' in new ways. This year, we've personally encountered refugees from Syria - raising money to help them buy transit passes and picture dictionaries as they've left everything they know to try and rebuild a life in a foreign land. We sleep with our windows open and hear how mental illness ravages some of our neighbors who spend their nights wandering streets with grocery carts talking (sometimes yelling) at people only they can hear/see. At times, I suffer from sensory overload - I'm humbled, grateful, amazed and slightly awestruck by our current reality.
All to say, I wonder (sometimes worry) about how we'll plug into wherever our next home might be. Will we be the 'weird ones' with all these graphic stories of intense human interactions? Will we be disappointed if we live in a flat landscape without water? Will our children have trouble fitting in if everyone looks like them and speaks their language? What will adjustment look like? How will we manage it? It's all just weird. But I read my new most favorite wall plaque when we were in Whistler lately and I'm claiming it - you'll one day see it hanging on my wall (once I get it painted). And now, now I'm OK with being the 'weird one', the misfit, the round peg in the square hole and I hope we run into those who see things differently wherever we go. For I've learned that what's most important is to be open - open to new places, new people, new experiences. God knows our family didn't get here because we stuck to a pre-determined path. It's in riding the waves that come our way that we sometimes are carried to where we most need to be. And so our family rides on - open to where the waves next take us and to the people we'll find there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)