begin again
Over the course of the last two-and-half years, I've talked a lot about inhabiting the liminal space between end and beginning, and recently a beautiful drawing captured this so well:
The King James translation of Psalm 90 tells us that the alotted time of a human life is threescore years and ten. I feel like in half that time, I have lived an entire life.
My thirty-six years have arguably checked all the major boxes: childhood, youth, college, marriage, homeownership, babies, graduate school, widowhood. I have loved and birthed and buried and mourned.
The vision that I had for what my threescore and ten would look like died with Adam. That was a frightening, almost paralyzing, realization.
But as I learned to make my way through the dark wilderness, I realized that it was also liberating.
I get to choose a new life.
I get to make all the decisions of early adulthood over again: Where do I want to live? City or country? What kind of partner do I want? Do I even want a partner? Do I want more children? Do I want to stay in academia? Is it the right place for me? Is it the best way to support my family? What other job would feed my soul?
I can choose differently than the last time I answered those questions. I get to reimagine the second half of my threescore and ten.
Some of those decisions are still under consideration; others have been made; some of the latter may yet change.
Selling Rambling Farmhouse and Rustic Lakehouse and moving several hundred miles to Lovely Apartment felt like the beginning of beginning. Having said good-bye to our cat Jack feels like the end of ending, the end of the season of leave-taking that began with #1 Cat's death just a month before Adam's. Although I know that there will always be periods of loss and grief in my life as long as there is love, at the moment, the light of hope is gaining on the darkness.
This is a good place to be at the beginning of Advent.
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| I can hardly believe I'm putting a Mitch Albom quote on this blog, but I couldn't resist the artwork by Mike Medaglia at http://mikemedaglia.com |
My thirty-six years have arguably checked all the major boxes: childhood, youth, college, marriage, homeownership, babies, graduate school, widowhood. I have loved and birthed and buried and mourned.
The vision that I had for what my threescore and ten would look like died with Adam. That was a frightening, almost paralyzing, realization.
But as I learned to make my way through the dark wilderness, I realized that it was also liberating.
I get to choose a new life.
I get to make all the decisions of early adulthood over again: Where do I want to live? City or country? What kind of partner do I want? Do I even want a partner? Do I want more children? Do I want to stay in academia? Is it the right place for me? Is it the best way to support my family? What other job would feed my soul?
I can choose differently than the last time I answered those questions. I get to reimagine the second half of my threescore and ten.
Some of those decisions are still under consideration; others have been made; some of the latter may yet change.
Selling Rambling Farmhouse and Rustic Lakehouse and moving several hundred miles to Lovely Apartment felt like the beginning of beginning. Having said good-bye to our cat Jack feels like the end of ending, the end of the season of leave-taking that began with #1 Cat's death just a month before Adam's. Although I know that there will always be periods of loss and grief in my life as long as there is love, at the moment, the light of hope is gaining on the darkness.
This is a good place to be at the beginning of Advent.
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