Lordy, Lordy, look who's forty

I knew it was coming.  I've been watching it for a couple of years now.  Just one of those monumental birthdays some peopele stress about.  And I am as vain as the next lady, and definitely more vain than most guys, so society expected me to panic.  My kind friends and co-workers were all cautious in their birthday greeting.  I had to tell them, "I'm okay with being 40."

And  I am okay with being forty.  Grandma Mattie lived to 94 and Grandma Gwen to 88.  I certainly don't feel any worse (aside from throwing out my back, but it was a sport injury, could of happened at any time.)  Actually, I'm in the best physically condition I've seen in decades.  I'm also in the best spiritual place and emotional place.  

If anything, I can rejoice in out growing the angsty years.  Being upset and offended by things was so tiring and often no offense was intended.  Guess my New Mexico was showing, being offended first and upset later.  Having kids certainly helped.  Discovering that I wasn't the center of the universe helped too.  Knowing that everyone isn't staring out you allows you time to relax.  

I've learned that everyone has to follow their own path to God and while I hope that they all at least are traveling, I've learned to not be mad if they are standing still.  

This doesn't mean that I don't still get angry.  My co-workers this week can attest to that.  Things annoy me, bug me, down right piss me off.  I have also learned to let it go.  Vent and move on.  Especially, to let it out when I get home and then set it aside until I actually have to work on it again.  

Sometimes, it is important to be angry.  There are travesties in this world that should evoke strong feeling.  So share your opinions on them, but listen too.  Listen all the time.  You will learn things.  Sometimes the act is still horrific, but is that any reason to make the person near you who is sharing their opinion alienated for having it.  If you push people away they will never give credence to your opinions.  Sometimes you will just have to agree to disagree.

This next decade will be one of large change in my life.  I will see both of my kids graduate from high school and go into the world to build their independent lives.  This is a beautiful thing and I'm glad it will happen although I will miss them terribly.  I will see them both go fro riding bikes to driving cars.  I hope to convince Zachary to try eatting fruit.  I will continue on my path to health and fitness.

Most of all, I want to develop an attitude of joy.  Looking at my life to date, I see a lot of sarcasm, a lot of withering looks, a lot of judgement.  I come by this honestly enough.  It is a family trait, and not one I'm trying to remove.  Rather, I want to insert more joy.  To find more joy in the things I need to do and want to do.  I'm commiting to joy.

So Lordy, Lordy, look whose 40.  Look out world, this decade I get even better.

Ah, Spring!

It was a warm, sunny day, with the feel of spring in the air. A good day to go exploring, I mentioned to my room mate over lunch, really the first warm enough day to go exploring since I moved. Just the day before I'd taken my bike over to the gas station and put air in its tires. The afternoon stretched in front of me like the bike trail that I intended to follow. I put on my vest and my hat and my mittens, as it can be cool biking in the spring. I stepped out of the house and found my bike. I set off for the trail.
This is a trail that I've followed on foot before. I marvelled at the speed that took me past the familiar. Bicycles are a lovely invention, faster than walking, simpler than automobiles. With a bicycle, the town was suddenly smaller.
To the south, as I set out, the Missouri flowed past on its way to the meet the Mississippi and then go with it to the sea. Nebraska filled the space between the river and the sky. Then, the trail turned, meandering up the creek that flows through the town. I followed the trail north. Bike trail and creek make a continuous park through the town, widening in different neighborhoods, spotted with park benches and pavilions.
Peace came as I peddled. Robins sang in the trees and everywhere the feeling of spring pervaded. I came across several trucks of city workers, getting ready to prepare the parks for summer.
I reached at long last a turning point, out where I heard the killdeer shrilly welcoming spring.
I have not lived here long enough to know fully what this feeling of spring means. In Colorado, in the mountains where I grew up, this feeling signified the beginning of the spring-thaw, but did not preclude more snowstorms. Here, I likewise doubt that the snows have stopped entirely, but, with hope, I know that spring is here.