July 21: Remember when you were a kid and you went over to your Aunt’s house for the afternoon and you thought to yourself- “Oh my goodness, what a stick in the mud! Thirty-eight is knocking on death’s door.” I’m thirty eight. Hannah (name changed to protect the guilty) is having a mid-life crisis. I didn’t think that was possible until you were scratching at fifty…or maybe even sixty. But I must have been mistaken as it must be thirty. Her being a tad older than I, I guess I’m four years from it being here full force. I already feel it for my husband (though he doesn’t even have a twinge of it). How in the world is my husband 41???? Honestly, I don’t feel a day over thirty. I can’t be married to someone closer to fifty than thirty. We are closer to retirement than the start of our career. Do I need to put money down on a patio home (wait, I’m already in a patio home)? If I really sit and think about it all, I could easily be guilty of inducing my own mid-life crisis. It’s probably right behind my grocery list in this mind of mine. Yep, it’s there lurking as I think of my parents being closer to a nursing home than a single’s party. It’s coming. I’m right there on the cusp. And hearing my friend Hannah, this past week, speak of her cusp I realize I am teetering on my own.
But I’m also embracing this perspective that comes with getting past the selfish days of twenty something. I adore not having to keep up with the Joneses (whoever they are and how did they become so famous?). Materialism actually irks me instead of drives me. I greatly appreciate watching the mothers around me sort through the strategy of child rearing. How do we make this little human being now in our care a meaningful contributor to society? Trial and error can be a hoot to observe. But there is also some immense satisfaction as you watch a niece or nephew (even those that are honorary) choose to be a Christ follower or observe them sincerely mourn on behalf of a sibling that got knocked down on the playground. I don’t miss those days where I would have criticized you for wearing pink with red. I crave giving to the Mission instead of to the local boutique. If only I could have made this wisdom come years ago. And what incredible knowledge of mid-life still awaits me over the next few week, months, years, decades? I truly believe it must get better from here. Not that I am saying life itself gets better and that we are immune to the struggles of living here in this fallen world, but maybe the struggles seem somewhat less of a struggle with newly found wisdom found with each passing slice of birthday cake. I’m also not naïve enough to not acknowledge the sorrow of loss that lies in wait as well. That will be my truest test of wisdom. But I think they must end up balancing each other out. Maybe the wisdom of midlife makes the dread of impending loss all the more bearable. Or maybe the ongoing loss of immaturity leads to the maturation of coping skills. An appreciation of the value of relationships around you so that when you lose one, you grow deeper in another that is helping you get by. Surely.
So I’m embracing mid-life (maybe?). Ok, so I am attempting to embrace mid-life. I think of how different my last year would have been had I started this journey of mastectomy a decade earlier. Instead of the worry of what others may think of me or the doom of temporal loss of vanity that would have prevailed a decade ago, in this age of thirty something I feel this sense of wisdom through mastectomy. It took me a year, but I am seeing a newly defined glimpse of the pride of battle scars (Sarah, I now understand what you said eight months ago). I feel more informed, more connected (more disconnected maybe, but in a positive way), just simply more. I love my perspective of life more now with imposters in tow than I did with the original counterparts . The fake have grown on me. I respect the triumph over circumstances. Maybe that is a secret blessing of mid-life. Mid-life knows your husband doesn’t even blink an eye at hottie walking in front of you in the mall. Mid-life means choosing dinner with your parents over dinner with the Joneses at the country club. Mid-life is letting the laundry sit while you walk around the pond with your elderly neighbor. Mid-life is sometimes putting a little away instead of getting the silver bangle. Mid-life is choosing your friends wisely. Mid-life is praying for the coworker that grates your every nerve and praying for yourself to focus instead on her strengths. Mid-life is forgiveness. Mid-life is choosing mastectomy. I don’t know that I would have done that 20 years ago.
All of you in and past mid-life can say the same in your own perspectives. Look at yourself the week before you found out you were pregnant, and now the you two years after delivery. The you the year after your first job, and now the you 6 months after being laid off. You before you miscarried. You before the loss of your mother. You before the diagnosis. You when your spouse battles addiction. You when you see your son choose Christ over society. Maybe I’m Miss Super Positive (I most certainly am a glass half full kind of person), but I truly do believe with every circumstance, even those that seem insurmountable, brings this incredible sense of purpose and perspective that couldn’t be obtain otherwise. Mid-life is the looking rear view mirror for wisdom and running with that wisdom and respect toward the future. A chance to grow closer to your spouse and those around you. A chance to shine for purpose. I think God is brilliant in that. Mid-life was very specifically purposed. However, He doesn’t dictate what you do with it. It’s simply an opportunity for the taking.
I read something to the effect of this just a few days ago “To the female teenagers of the world: Choose the nerd every single time. Trust me on this! Sincerely, Married women of the world a few years older.” Oh how very true! Think of all of those tidbits of information that you wish had darkened your door a decade earlier. (I was lucky to already have that knowledge of marriage very early I life- Thanks, Mom!) So why not be excited of what is to come? Why not sit and wait in intense anticipation? Mid-life crisis, Schmid-life crisis! If God truly wants the best for us, and we decide to believe in that plan despite circumstance, how can the next best thing not be today, and again tomorrow, and again the next day? Today is the best! And tomorrow will be the best! And even if struggle darkens your door (as it most certainly will), mid-life is a reminder of just how surmountable it all can be.
So women, let’s embrace those wrinkled foreheads. A testament that thinking and praying your way out of any situation is much better than chance. Put a little swagger in your fluffy trunk for that fluffy trunk shows eating cupcakes with a 3 years old is far better than choosing solitude while cleaning the house. Hello, mini-van...only a testament to choosing family over self. Graying hair? Survived the chaos! Sagging boobs? Well I wouldn’t know about that. = )
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