I am 55 years old,
“over the hill” you might say, or at least over the half-century mark.
I was thinking about
my life—both past and present, and who I am in conjunction with it, and wrote
this description of the way I view myself and life in general.
This is me— besides
being a graying-haired woman with small body frame, sometimes intently working
at a computer, sometimes cooking a family meal, sometimes running to catch the
bus:
First of all, I am
someone who cares. I care about others
in my sphere: spouse, family, friends. I
care about the world—our physical environment and its well-being, and the socio-economic
fluctuations that affect earth’s inhabitants.
I care about God, and want to know Him as a dynamic reality and personal
friend. I care about myself—recognizing
frailties and limits, but wanting to prosper physiologically, and to grow in
greater expression of soul and spirit; if I want anything it is to be a force
for good, as an active member of God’s kingdom and created in His image.
Also, I am someone who has lived a life of nurture. Being a mother of nine children has been an incredible opportunity to apply caring in a limited human context, and homeschooling them at least through junior high has been a rich and rewarding experience—though not without tripping over the perils of insecurity, self-doubt, feelings of inadequacy—with occasional head-long plunges into failure-- and the puzzle of practical logistics for implementation.
Emerging from
homeschooling to enter the next phase of life has been awkward. I am still a mom, but my children are mostly
not here. I am not “needed” in the old,
familiar sense of the word, but caring and friendship are always needed, by
anyone at any time in life. So my new
role is shaping itself gradually, as the old one winds down. It’s like putting on a garment you’ve been
knitting all your life . . . one that is not without blemishes, and in which
repairs may be needed— but one that is fascinating and filled with wonder as
well as being functional.
I am an artist, in
just about every sense of the word—visual art, music, literary art, filmmaking,
and if the opportunity comes along, theatre art. This is just who I am; it is what I am “made
for.” These areas interest me and
creativity itself is a huge opportunity for adventure. I will never want to climb the Himalayas, but
might want to draw an illustration of a watermelon-slice “mountain” with
determined mountaineers (this is a current project in process).
I am also an
educator . . . “once a homeschool mom, always a homeschool mom” is how I see
it. I’m not currently teaching anyone
anything . . . but after 30 years of day-in, day-out walking along a teacher’s
path, the love of learning and joy in facilitating discovery for others is a
part of my makeup. Working to develop
educational materials is something that resonates strongly for me— I want to
pass along materials that have been helpful and successful, to other educators,
and also do really enjoy creating brand new materials— even if at present being
without anyone in my own household to try them out.
I am someone who
hopes. Hope is like an underground river
that can be accessed at any time, bringing the means to sustain life in times
of drought. I try not to put my hope in
futile things that will not deliver, like praying to “Martians” . . . hope is
accompanied by effort, and I think these together can be an effective means to
bring eventual desired results . . . a sort of slow-moving escalator made up of
many, many individual steps. If there are
setbacks, or I fail to do the needed work— so nothing happens— I can start
over, or maybe try a different approach, and there’s no need to abandon any
goal that I really and truly want to keep.
Although it is my
nature to hope for the best, I can also be completely devastated when face to
face with the ugliness of unconstructive criticism, coercion through threat or accusation
or belittling or bribery, or harshness that is experienced during an extended
period of time. But this doesn’t mean
there is no hope. It is still there,
just waiting— and with some nurturing it can bring continued growth.
I like these verses
in the Bible, from 2 Cor. 4: 7 – 9:
“But we have this
treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and
not from us. We are hard pressed on
every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not
abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”