40 years of trial and error
The Hebrew people lived in the Sinai desert for forty years. This period of years represents the time it takes for a new generation to arise.
Yeah, that makes sense to me. It’s taken me 40 years of baby steps to get here … to this piece of solid ground that seems to be slightly reliable and relatively stable. Opinions once spouted with the arrogance of youth are now tempered with the wisdom of years. At least most of the time. I hope so, anyway.
Trial and error, all of it. We learn to babble and crawl and walk and talk. We improve our minds with 13 years of education or more. Somewhere in there we learned to drive. We learned about relationships. We became a bit more independent. What came next was different for all of us. For me, college was followed by my first “big” job, then marriage, a baby, first house, different job, another baby, a big move, the purchase of what is probably our forever place, and then another baby. Neat and tidy? Not on your life. For every joyful milestone there’s a bit of brokenness. For every triumph a dusting of misery.
And that’s why life is so beautiful and painful and poetic.
We tend to mark our years by the best things when it’s the worst of times that makes the difference. Before the love of my life there was loneliness. Before that precious third baby there was broken-hearted loss. Before the years of all present there was the year that almost did me in: 2009. It began with my husband’s broken heart and continued with goodbye and so long and farewell. Those were big things in my first 40 years. Those were the trials and experiences that changed me for the better, though it certainly didn’t seem so edifying at the time. Trial by fire, life by design.
So here I am. Here it is. This is it … this is life … this is how I roll.
Where to? What next?
A new set of goals. A new view from here.
Now is the time.
Because there’s no time like the present.