Midlife Spring

Some experts say that experiencing a midlife crisis comes without rhyme or reason to all of us at some point during our 40s or 50s. You simply awake one morning and decide that you need a new convertible or a new career, or in more drastic cases, a new spouse or a new family. Other experts will argue that a midlife crisis occurs because of external circumstances or pressures in your life that cause you to reevaluate what is most important to you.

I'm not sure which of these is true, but perhaps they both are to a certain degree. I do know that for me personally, I began to feel a definite restlessness in my soul as my children began to leave home to go to college, which, coincidentally perhaps, coincided with my entrance into my 40s. I dreamed of selling everything I owned and moving to a small village in Alaska (my Northern Exposure, Men in Trees phase) or starting my own publishing company (without any cash to do so) or writing the next great American novel. I changed jobs (from one advertising company to another) during this time in my life, and I thought my midlife crisis was over.

Then, a little over two years ago, my 85-year-old mother died unexpectedly while sleeping in her favorite chair. For six months, I felt as if I were moving and working and speaking and operating in a fog. I couldn't seem to get a handle on my grief, and I found myself thrown headlong into a major midlife crisis. I was uneasy, unsettled and unhappy.

It took almost two years for me to come out on the other side of the fog, and I'm still not sure of who or what I want to be when I grow up, but I am happy again. Or perhaps I should say that I am content now. Content to be the woman God wants me to be and to go where He wants me to go. Maybe someday that will be as a full-time speaker and writer, an English teacher on a distant mission field or continue in my current job and minister to those I work with each day. Wherever, whenever or whatever, I simply desire to follow Jesus Christ with all of my heart, soul and mind.

I bought a Jeep Wrangler shortly after Mom died, dealing with the whole midlife convertible issue. Definitely, I might add, one of the best decisions I've ever made. There's nothing like a ride in my Jeep with the top down on a warm spring night. The stars above me, the wind in my gray hair ... peaceful, playful and perfect.

You see, I learned something after losing Mom and going through my midlife crisis. Life is short, even if God graces you with 85 years of life as He did Mom. It's the little things that truly count, the little things that, at the end of the day when you close your eyes in sleep, make you know that it was a good day. Like driving your Jeep on a warm night, waving to a little girl in the car next to you at the traffic light, taking an extra moment to talk to the gray-haired greeter at Wal-Mart, telling your boss you appreciate him or her, walking your dog at dusk, eating a warm chocolate chip cookie, or a million other little things.

Midlife? It's not bad. Not bad at all.

Hallelujah!

"After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightening, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men. The angel said to the women, 'Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; He has risen, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay. Then go quickly and tell His disciples; 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see Him.' Now I have told you.'" Matthew 28: 1-7

Those verses were nothing more to me than words on paper until a little over eight years ago when I met Jesus Christ in a small prayer room at my church. I had grown up in the church, but it wasn't until a cold and rainy Monday afternoon in late September 1999, that my head knowledge concerning Jesus became heart knowledge. On that day, my life was changed in a dramatic moment when I gave my life, my heart and my soul over to the saving grace of Jesus. I was, quite literally, at the end of my rope ... a single mother raising three children, working full-time, living 700 miles away from my family, depressed, financially strapped, living a double life, ready to throw in the towel. And then, I met Jesus in a real and life-changing way. He met me where I was, in the midst of my sin and my despair, and He loved me, rescued me and saved me.

Easter has a whole new meaning to me now than it did before that Monday afternoon. The celebration of Jesus conquering the bonds of death now means hope to me, life to me, joy to me. The words of the angel at the tomb mean the promise of heaven and eternal life with my Savior after my life on this earth is complete. Life still gets hard at times, and the older I get, the more I realize that my only hope, my only help, my only salvation is in Jesus and His abundant love, mercy and grace.

So, with the angel at the tomb, I loudly proclaim, "He is not here; He has risen, just as He said."

Hallelujah! He is risen indeed!

Coming Home

A couple of weekends ago, my little house became a flurry of activity. My son Matt, his wife Becca, her brother and his wife, my son Brad and his girlfriend arrived to join my daughter Meghann and I for some long overdue family time. It was the first chance for us to all be together since Christmas, when we spent five days together in Colorado. Also present that day were my three granddogs, Julie, Peanut and Andy, chasing each other and playing like the wild animals they truly are.

As I sat on the couch and listened to the conversations among these young adults, my mind couldn't help but race back to the days when they were young. Listening to Matt's wife tease him about resuming his role of "king" the minute he walked through my kitchen door caused me to recall times when he would take charge and direct his brother and sister to do their chores and help around the house. Brad's constant chattering sent my mind racing back to him sitting in the back seat of the car talking nonstop about fire engines, spotted dogs and trains. Hearing Meghann stand her ground and state her opinions with her brothers made me remember years of spirited discussions among my three children, often ending with the lament of, "The boys never agree with me, Mom."

The time together always passes too quickly, and after a few hours, the house returned to the quietness that is the life that Meghann and I now share. I've never told my sons, but I often fight back the tears as hugs and kisses accompany saying goodbye to them once again. It is part of the circle of life, watching your children grow up and move on to start their own lives. And it is good and right, and I'm very proud of the adults my children are becoming. The tears are tears of gratitude and thankfulness for our time together, for sons and a daughter-in-law and daughter who want to spend time with me, who love me, and who are beginning to take care of me as I took care of them for so many years.

And so I look forward to the next time we are together, laughing and sharing and playing. My heart is beating a little faster just thinking about the next time they all come home again.