I turned 59 today—not a landmark birthday. That comes next year. Still, it’s a good time for reflection.
I receive daily meditations from Richard Rohr, a priest/writer who I’ve come to appreciate over the years. He talks frequently about second half of life, and the unique opportunities for spiritual development in the second half of our journey—beginning somewhere around 45 or 50. We spend a lot of energy pursuing outward definition in our 20s and 30s. We usually begin marriage, parenthood, career, etc during that time. We plant ourselves in the convictions that we carry from our familial formation, and we join communities of believers that help us further define our beliefs and values. Sometimes we forge new identities. Picking up ideas from friends and institutions; also possibly from reading or other media. Most of us surround ourselves with people who agree with us, and, unfortunately, we are often judgmental toward those differ.
In our second half, it seems as though the Holy Spirit stirs us in a different way. We have by now experienced loss and woundedness; we have failed and we have fallen. Things haven’t gone according to our plan, and adjustments have to be made. Our children haven’t followed in the footsteps of our beliefs and lifestyles the way we expected. Loss and infidelity have entered our lives. Disagreements and arguments plague our familial peace. We become sad or depressed, disillusioned and disappointed
And here is where God’s love comes in a new way into our ordinary life. Now that our well laid plans have proven to be shaky and the pillars supporting our beliefs have cracked and sometimes crumbled, God finds us in a vulnerable and pleading place. He reveals once again to us, the grace that drew and held us in the first place. He removes the blinders that separated us from the crowds around us, and shows us our oneness with humanity. He expands our hearts, not unlike the expansion of the birth canal during childbirth—painful, but rewarding—for we are invited to experience him in a new re-birth.
This doesn’t happen automatically. It comes as an invitation, and one can say yes or no. I believe those who say no, continue on in their life as before. And the hurts and disappointments turn into bitterness. The anger and judgment become more evident. It’s sad to observe, and even sadder to live with one who says no.
As I look back over the last 10-15 years of my life, I am heartened and encouraged at the change that has taken place. God’s presence is more apparent to me in my day-to-day life. My eyes have been opened to see Him in small and big ways in the spiritual formation of my children. My heart is open to creation and humanity in a new way. The other day I was in the car with my daughter and we were listening to The Holy City. In the last verse is the line, and all who would might enter, and no one was denied. Tears filled my eyes as I thought of all the years I had spent pointing out those who would not get in. I have relinquished the cloak of judgment and put on the mantel of grace and compassion, and I feel set free.
A few months ago I was having coffee with my friend Lisa (Mullen), and as she shared some of the hard-to-understand things in her life, she used the word mystery to explain her peace and acceptance of God-at-work. That word has stuck with me, and it has come up again and again in my reading and thoughts—mystery. It’s at the same time exciting and comforting. What is God doing in my life? What happens next? Why do things seem to not make sense, and yet they seem okay? Oh, I love this reality. I can trust God to be in the flow of my ordinary life. Sometime I see him, sometimes I don’t, but I can trust Him with the mystery. And I can allow and embrace His mysterious work in the lives of my friends and loved ones, and yes, even in the world.
So welcome 59. You bring me joy and delight. I love and I am loved. I can’t ask for more.
“I’m in the garden,” she called. “I’m in the garden.”
