Sailing Through the Seasons of Life By Terri White

Sailing Through the Seasons of Life
By Terri White
 
Life is amazing. Then it’s distressing. And then it’s amazing again. In-between the amazing and distressing, it’s ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing. Hold on through the distressing. Relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living this heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, distressing, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.  ~ Adapted from L.R. Knost
 
It’s easy to romanticize the past, looking back through rose-colored glasses with selective memories.  My 50s childhood seems ideal, but nothing is perfect. 
 
Indeed, my childhood was riddled with insecurities.  Once at age 7, I visited a friend who lived on a farm.  What a grand day!  We girls baked a cake all by ourselves, played, and in the evening her big brother regaled us with funny stories.  I laughed so hard I wet my pants. Oh-oh.
 
That ended the fun for me.  Immediately, I insisted on going home – right then.  Neither would I explain the problem.  My friend’s mother, a sweet woman, could have easily provided clean clothes, but I was too embarrassed.   Although not a major trauma - just a blip on the radar -  it still remains a significant memory.
 
In my kindergarten through second grade school years, I routinely ran away from school.  One school was only two blocks away, the other a mile. My mind went blank. The words in my book disappeared. I forgot how to hold my pencil.  The teacher wanted answers. I had none, remaining wide-eyed and silent.  Because I could not explain it to my teacher, she punished me by sticking me in the corner, nose to the wall. No compassion. 
 
To further my humiliation, she refused to let me use the restroom during class (it was in our classroom).  Soon a puddle leaked under my desk from you-know-who.  It’s amazing that I ever braved school in those days.  And I never spoke about it with my parents.  How could I, a child, understand these troubles? It even puzzled the adults.
 
Then our frequent family moves.  Uprooting.  Attending different schools. Making new friends. Starting over again. And again. And again.
 
However, while others surely experience serious trauma, most of us breeze through life with minor issues.  Regardless, we all encounter struggles as children.
 
With all the hormonal angst, the teen years emerge.  The equivalent of the terrible-twos, teens struggle to navigate their budding independence.  Reasoning skills emerge.  Hence the arguments.  Why? Why? Why? Lots of bad decisions. Lots of frustration.  Lots.  Peer pressure and temptations. Stir in the Internet and all of its vices. It’s a wonder anyone survives the teens. At least while living at home, the consequences may not prove so severe.  Hopefully, good parenting offers a little softness. 
 
The twenties.  Ugh.  I think it’s the worst stage for parents. Because the frontal lobe in a human brain does not fully develop until ages 25 to 29, those in their 20s still struggle like their teen counterparts. Among other roles, the frontal lobe manages higher-level executive functions, including the capacity to plan, organize, initiate, self-monitor, and control one's responses to achieve a goal. Serious skills required for adulthood.
 
Now they are on their own – floundering.  Sometimes making stupid decisions and suffering the consequences.  Some of those consequences stay with them for life. As parents, we can do nothing. We can’t force them, ground them, or lecture them. As young adults, they must navigate this season of their lives on their own.  Mostly.  
 
Although my mother modeled kindness, she never – I mean never – gave me any advice. She avoided controversy to a fault. So I determined to share what little wisdom I had gained thus far in my life. My policy? I made sure they understood that I wasn’t asking for a response or requiring them to follow my advice.  That way, they did not feel the need to defend themselves.  I also stated that I would never bring the issue up again.  I kept my end of the bargain, and they never argued. My consolation?  At least I planted a seed.  Maybe it would grow. Fingers crossed.
 
During the thirties, life levels out: careers, marriage, and kids.  Priorities revolve around the family.  Unfortunately, with that comes the know-it-all stage.  They think they have figured out life.  Little do they know.  At this stage, I rarely passed on advice because the egos of the thirty-some-year-olds are huge.  Easy to bump into them. Hence the silence on my end - mostly.  No ears to hear.  Pretty sure we all stink like poop during our 30s.
 
When I turned 40, I slapped myself on the forehead, announcing, “Oh my goodness!  My generation is in charge of the world!”  Not entirely, but it felt like it. The children are older, careers more established, but egoism continues to mushroom.  Thinking they own the answers, they write books.  Books that don’t hold the answers.  Books that need to be thrown in the trash.  Of course, there are exceptions – like my daughter-in-law’s book. (That’s a shameless plug. Contact me if interested.)
 
It’s downright embarrassing when I look back at my 40s. Self-righteousness oozed from me.  Once a friend introduced me to a lady. While swapping our life stories, this lady shared her frustrations about her 18-year-old son’s rebellion. Meanwhile, I was silently wondering what she had done wrong in raising him.  Oh, boy!  That came back to bite me a couple of years later when one of my sons ventured down that same path.  The humiliation stripped me of my pride - a much-needed lesson. 
 
At 50, I asked myself, “What have I accomplished in my life?” It’s a serious pause. Fifty-year-olds are halfway to 100.  Scary.  If we have not taken care of our health, then problems crop up.  Doctor visits increase.  We slow down, perhaps even thinking about retirement.  Thankfully for me, I felt grand in my fifties – still healthy and energetic – and even started a brand new career. 
 
The grandkids arrive. Life grows busy again with the little munchkins.  Those adorable giggles filled the air with the children’s boundless energy.  It’s like a new lease on life for us grandparents.  Something fresh and new. The icing of life. We get to provide the softness in their lives while the parents do the buck-stopping work. 
 
In the 50s decade, folks often discard former ideas.  I sure did. Ideas about anything: from parenting to religion to politics to science to relationships.  Realizing that we don’t know nearly as much as we formerly thought, we extend more grace and mercy to others.  That’s why we offer more latitude to the grandchildren.  As a result, these different perspectives infuse an ease to life not experienced before.
 
Then age 60 pokes up its head.  Oh, dear.  Now we are officially senior citizens.  You know, old people.  Pictures of our grandparents dressed in dowdy clothes and hairdos dance in our heads.  Refusing to believe that we are old, we announce: We are not THOSE people who attend senior citizen functions or live in senior living facilities. Horrors!  We are trendy.  Still living the good life. 
 
To prove it, hair is dyed, heavy eye makeup is applied, youthful clothes are worn, and active lifestyles persist.  Don’t forget plastic surgery and facials – big business. Anything to stall the appearance of aging. I get it.  Been there.  Except for the plastic surgery and heavy eye makeup.  Not my thing.  I’m a ‘less is more’ girl. But, hey, whatever floats your boat.
 
Philosophically, though, the 60s are grand.  We make even more adjustments in our views about life. Discarding more unpleasant baggage reduces the head noise – those excessive voices barraging us with all the “what ifs” in life.  No guilt.
 
Enter the 70s, my season.  Let’s face it. It’s weird. I can’t be 72, nearly 73.  How is this possible? That’s other people. Yet, here I am.  Nonetheless, I like my age.  Why? Because I would never want to repeat those hard lessons of youth.  Never want to repeat those years of egoism.  I like knowing that I don’t know much.  I am thrilled that I’ve dumped a boatload of mental and emotional garbage.  It feels weightless.  I highly recommend old age. 
 
But let’s get real.  While I realize that I’ve only gained a thimbleful of knowledge and wisdom at this age, that thimbleful comes in handy.  So don’t put us out to pasture yet.  Maybe someone with ears to hear can avoid the pitfalls of my younger years. 
 
We’re sailing along this journey of life, heading closer to the sunset.  “. . .just living this heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, distressing, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.”