In the Middle

I turned 33 this year.  The definitions of age are shifting in my generation, so that "young" is different than it was for my parents or my grandparents, and "old" has moved further back than it was in the past.  People say things like "40 is the new 20!" which I think means that people hitting their forties are still as youthful and exciting as twenty year olds.  Not like my parents, who were packing their children off to college and preparing to be "empty nesters" when they hit forty.

So maybe 33 is still "young" and maybe (given genetics) I'm only a third of the way through my life, but I feel like I have hit the "middle age".  Not just because my knees click when I climb stairs (which they never used to do) or because I started wearing a swim skirt (the better to hide my lumpy mom body!), but because the time to figure out who I am seems to be over.  I can still try new things and experiment and fail and pick myself back up, but I have to do this in the middle of a life being lived.  I can't change course quickly, because I have a family that goes along with me, and I have to factor in everyone's needs, not just my own.

At 20, I could try a new hobby and decide if I liked it or not.  I could spend all day reading or watching tv with no guilt.  I could move to Tennessee and then back to Ohio when I felt like it.  I could eat an entire bag of chips or stay up all night or suddenly decide to bike 10 miles with no consequences.  But now?  Now I'm in the middle.  Now the consequences of disengaging from the world are cranky kids and huge laundry piles and late bills.  Now I feel the effects of what I ate or how I slept or what crazy thing I tried to put my body through for days.  All of this leads me to believe (no matter what the magazine covers say) that I have transitioned into the middle of my life.

So all of this is well and good, except I've heard about this thing called a "mid-life crisis".  Those never go well.  That's the time when people spend crazy amounts of money on sports cars or leave their spouse for someone else or travel to India to prove they can still have adventures.  But I'm wondering what has to happen to go from realizing and accepting that my life has reached the middle to a full-blown, poor decision making crisis.  I mean, I love my minivan.  I love my husband.  I love staying at home and not contracting some flesh-eating virus from, I don't know, dirty ashram water.  Maybe I'll be lucky and miss the "crisis" part of aging.  Wouldn't that be nice?

I was listening to "Coffee with Christine Caine", my new favorite podcast (because, hello, Christine Caine, and also they are about 10 minutes long which is about how much time I have to do anything for myself this summer), and she was talking about embracing new things and being innovative in our thinking.  She said something interesting, which is that being old happens when you get stuck in your ways and close off to new thinking.  According to Chris, there is no numerical age when you get old; a 26 year old can be old if he refuses to accept change and adapt to new circumstances.  Likewise, an 80 year old can still be skirting the young side if she is willing to try new things.  I witnessed that this past year when I signed up for a women's Bible study at a local church.  I joined my group the first day and was a little surprised at the white haired woman who announced herself as our leader.  She said, "My name is Betty and I've never done anything like this before, but I was asked if I would be willing to lead a group and so here I am."  Over the course of 25 weeks, Betty challenged my ideas about age and what people are capable of.  She doesn't drive after dark and she gets nervous when the sidewalk is icy, but she did her research each week and she kept our group on topic as we discussed the Life of Moses together.

Here I am, in the middle.  No longer an untethered young woman with the world at her feet and opportunity hanging like fruit from a tree.  Not yet a grumpy old lady shaking her fist at kids on skateboards and bemoaning "the good old days".  I'm navigating the middle of life, finding time to try new experiences between the demands and responsibilities of all I've been given.  To accept the limitations while continuing to dream.

In the Wilderness

A few weeks ago, I sent this message to the women of my Village, inviting them to join me at our IF: Local this weekend....

"Lately, I've been reading the gospels, and for the first time, I've been identifying with John the Baptist.  (Usually I am put off by the eating-locusts-living-in-the-wilderness-crazy-eyes part of his story)  He is described as "a voice shouting in the wilderness, 'Prepare the way for the Lord's coming!'" (Luke 3:4)  And this made me think, we are still living in the wilderness.  There are predators and dangers all around us, and some of us go for such a long time without a proper spiritual meal, existing on whatever we can find along the way.  God has been working on my heart to come out of the wilderness, to eat and drink from his word and to stop walking that fine line between good and evil.  And I want other women to experience this refuge that I've found, which is why IF has become so important to me.  I see the same heart for women in the speakers and planners of this event, and that's why I hope you'll find some time to join me.  If you can only come for one session, please do.  Even three hours of encouragement and community can go a long way in the wilderness of our souls."

Friday night, the conference began.  We were ready.  We came in, not knowing what to expect, hoping for the best.  And the women in Austin DELIVERED.  One after another, they spoke, they shared, they preached.  When Christine Caine came on the stage, I thought surely there is no way she can top what has already come.  I didn't know anything about her.  But she began to speak, and she directed us to Joshua 5, to the story about Joshua circumcising all the men because a generation had DIED in the wilderness, and the new generation had to rise up to take their place.  The previous generation had been delivered from slavery, but never made it to the full life, the freedom promised, the land flowing with milk and honey.  "Why settle for deliverance when we could be free?" Christine asked.  And so the next generation entered the Promised Land when all their parents had died.  Even Moses died in the wilderness; Joshua took over and finished the journey.  I'm not going down like that.  I AM NOT DYING IN THE WILDERNESS.  I am ready for something new, in my life, in my church, in this world.  I'm grabbing freedom, because free people free people.  "Let go of the weights and sin that entangle you," she said.  "Usher in the Second Coming," she proclaimed.

We weren't meant to wander in the wilderness, and we weren't meant to stay up on the mountain.  Those places are glimpses that we are to take with us into real life, into the endless cycle of laundry and dishes and hugs and crying eyes and REAL PEOPLE.  Come out and come down, but not the same.  Bring a changed heart and a new life to the world.  Abide in the truth of God's word, because the Truth sets you free.

If God is real, then what?
Then I believe.  I believe that I have a unique place in his Body, that I'm not redundant or unnecessary, like an appendix or a male nipple.