WOW! ANOTHER BIRTHDAY!

On my desk, perched to the left of my laptop is one of those clever cliches, rather glib I think.  It says, "YOUTH IS A GIFT. AGE IS AN ART."

Before I go off, waxing the incredible wisdom that I have gleaned from living so many years, just let me say,

I'm still working on the "AGE IS AN ART" part.

Birthdays usually trigger me into contemplative moods. In my imagination, I visualize my life as  a room full of many doors -- doors that have opened in the past, and I have walked through them or doors that have been shut and I ignored the obvious, and blasted right through them anyway.  But --

There are doors that are still standing open, right now one in particular.  And I am tiptoeing around the threshold, hesitating to commit to the dance, one foot in, and then, whoa, one foot out.   Kind of like the two-step at my sixth-grade box social. Not fully committed to walking through.

 But I do know this much.

On this birthday, I am truly grateful.  Exuberantly, extraordinarily and exactingly GRATEFUL! Is it because I am old or because I am a writer, all three adjectives mean something special?  You dear reader can decide.

Exuberantly thankful! For my love of eating! Smelling the aromas of homemade bread and white cake wafting from the oven, and mouth-watering plumes of barbecue smoke from steaks and ribs on the grill.  The joy of crunching into corn on the cob dripping in butter, a vine-ripened Iowa tomato bursting with flavor only heat and humidity can produce (my Midwest roots) and finally, who can pass up a plate of steaming pasta piled on a plate with homemade marinara sauce,  grated garlic and Parmesan cheese melting on top?

For music!  All kinds.  Cranked up.  Lots of drums! Cellos yes!  Dancing in my living-room in my sweats, barefooted, no make-up, and my dog howling at the top of his lungs, thinking it is one big game!

For good books! Curled up. In my favorite chair, hot Irish breakfast tea, cat on my lap, journals and a book close by. I call it exuberant peace. Do I scoot out of my chair onto my knees with prayers of gratitude?  Often.  Very often.

Next --EXTRAORDINARILY!

Extraordinarily humbled by my marriage to Brian. God has brought us through!  The fruit?  So much, but for us, talking and listening and learning how to do both -- has been a constant. Used to be over a beer, but now? A cup of  his freshly-brewed coffee in the comfort of Saturday mornings, talking as only people the same age and married 36 years can share. Deep, superficial, laughing, crying, praying, sometimes all at once.  We ponder often these days -- what life at our age should look like? What is God doing in our lives?  What should we be doing in His?  (And, really, is it the same thing?) Is the next house project worth the energy?  Did the dog just run right through our new patio screen door!!??  Shall we go out for ice cream like NOW!?

Extraordinarily thankful that I could be a mother when I wasn't sure whether my body was up to it.  Even more grateful that I birthed a kid that I not only loved, but that I liked. Tony shares the family bonding agent -- humor. Laughter with him, always!   He has surpassed his mother in cooking skills. Cooking with him is a joy -- letting him cook and then eating the deluge of texture and goodness that he prepares is even more of a delight.  Grateful I can be a part of his journey and watch him navigate the complex challenges he faces as a young man.   I learn from his journey, oh boy, do I learn.

Extraordinarily sobered is truly the word  that comes to mind as I ponder the deep colors of my friendships. The fine workings, the sometimes rugged terrain, the peaceful oases, the fight, the companionship of love, pain, confusion, despair, and hope which I experience with people who truly share their hearts and lives with me takes my breath away at times. Some are kindred spirits, others walk their own journey though they don't share my beliefs, but they honor me anyway.  And I, honor them.

A special hug to my inner circle.  You know who you are. And my life is enriched because you are my family, because I need you, and you need me.  A circle of unending love -- it pours in from places in our hearts where we expect it to come -- but it also surprises us when wow! God takes us into unexpected treasure troves to bless us one to another.

To my mentors, those who guard me in prayer, and keep me on the path where I belong -- I must make special mention.  Dr. Virginia Phillips, Dr. Mark Strong, Pastor Marla Strong, Pastors Bernis and Betty Dorsey, and the dear one I just lost, Lottie Thurman. To you all, well, there are no words strong enough.  Thank you from my heart.

And finally, we come to Exactingly Grateful.  Interesting adjective, and perhaps one that is a little puzzling. This is the threshold of the door(s) I'm afraid to cross. A scary place. Hesitant, fear, and insecurity follow me here.  I've been here many times -- as an awkward sixth-grader at my first dance, a teenager shaking in the wings as I await my turn in a state competition, in pain as my first love told me he was in love with someone else, devastated as I pulled a D in my first college exam, after studying forever, scared as a new wife, and a new mother, and leveled at the loss suffered in both of those roles. So, have I earned the right to be hesitant?

As I practice Exacting Gratitude, I understand from the past, that I've passed those thresholds of "scary" before.  They are guideposts of where I've been, because by the grace of the good Lord, I have purposed, EXACTED myself on the path that Jesus has already laid for me. For every fear and battle scar,  there is restoration and reconciliation. Where there is mystery and fear and insecurity, there is opportunity to stand, to have more courage, and to walk from shaking to assurance.

I am not exempted from the journey because I am old.  I must exact myself in new disciplines (love to walk as much as I love to eat!), learn new levels of my gift (I DID after all give up my good old Royal typewriter), and position myself to surrender.  Reads easy, works hard.

Can I say I am no longer scared?

No, but I can say this --

I am no longer a sixth-grader doing the two-step at a box social.

I am an adult, replete with the richness of my own life lived sometimes with success, sometimes with failure, and sometimes with everything in- between.  I am alive, kicking, moving along, singing a song, eyes wide-open.

So, I ask myself, is this what "AGE IS AN ART "means?

We'll see!

I have my dancing shoes on, and I hear music just beyond that threshold.

Happy Birthday to me!