In a few weeks I’m going to be 58 years old. I’d always imagined by the time I’d reached this age, I’d be all grown up and know all I needed to know. When I was five and my grandmother was in her fifties, I’d look at her and feel secure she knew everything that needed to be known and if I needed to know something, I could just ask her. Later, when I was in my thirties and my mother was in her fifties, I thought that she knew everything by that age also. I was teaching full time with a husband, a home, and two little girls. She was my go-to person. She knew everything from how to hang curtains to how much Tylenol to give a two year old. I was pretty confident that by the time I reached my fifties, I’d be pretty much through with the school of life, and, like mom and grandma, know all I needed to by then.
Now, in my late fifties, both my mom and grandmother are gone, and I look around and there’s only me. Except I don’t know it all. My fantasy of being “done” in my fifties burst. Despite all my 57 years have taught me, I find there’s a ton more to learn. I also realize that the energy of a journey is more exciting than reaching the goal itself. I find it’s important to always have a new goal ready and waiting in the wings. And so the growing and learning process goes on for as long as we’re on this earth. I guess my mom and grandmother didn’t know it all by 50, either. Somehow, I think they lived a lot like me, making it up as I go along, learning from my mistakes, and realizing God is the only one who truly knows it all.
Mary Lou Retton once said:
“Each of us has a fire in our heart for something. It’s our goal in life to find it, and keep it lit”.
This is the essence of life-long learning. Finding our passion isn’t our end all. It’s just the beginning. Letting it keep reinventing you, day after day, year after year, is what keeps us energized. Teaching was my passion. I thought retirement put an end to it. Suddenly I find myself teaching young authors’ workshops weekly, to kids in my home. My summer garage has become a writing classroom. I’m taking an art class. Suddenly there’s an easel and art supplies in my livingroom. I spend afternoons sketching and looking at ordinary things in new ways. I am writing a children’s book and taking a class on writing for children in August. Teaching and learning new things. That’s my passion. Leaving school did not end that. I just had to keep believing, these last six months, that God would restore the passion and energy that used to drive me.
Being patient day after long day, believing that if I let God drive, I’d be blessed in ways I’d never even thought of. Giving up that control was the hardest thing I ever did. And now, smothered in blessings, I don’t ever want it back again. I absolutely cannot believe that it IS true – within days of giving it over to God, it’s like flipping a switch and suddenly your life changes and miracles happen.
And so, as another day goes by, it takes years for a rock to be made smooth, and I have written.
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