Footprints in the sand

Going to the beach at 50 is a dicey proposition, at best. I go each year with hopes of sandy beaches and windy breezes on my face while sitting in a comfy beach chair...but I forget about the bodies.

The bodies at the beach are an endless sort of fascination for people watchers, but after a certain age, they become terrifyingly real examples of time passing us by. Just a few years ago, I was one of those bikini-clad women who pacify themselves with the knowledge that by "next year" I would have lost those last five pounds and gotten my flat stomach back through the thousands of sit-ups I would do before then. And then 40 came. Then my last two babies. Then my auto-immune diagnosis. Then the spinal fusion surgery which makes anything close to running on the beach a memory. Then 50.

Now, when I walk the beach, I do not see what I can become if only I work hard enough. I see all the colors of the age rainbow and know exactly where I fit in the color scheme. I am not going to see those days again. Oh, that doesn't mean I won't wear a bikini again - I did yesterday! I am nothing if not a child of the 70s! However - I know how it makes me look. I know how different I look. And I know it will only get harder to see myself going forward. Because the changes I see are not anything I can control. No diet or exercise will fix it. I want to be the amazing 80-year-old on the cover of AARP Fitness magazine (is there such a thing?!), but I know I will not be the one.

Denial is no longer my friend. We have gone our separate ways. I love my life and all the experiences that have made me, but I do not love my jowls and sagging neckline from all the laughing. I love all four of my children, but I do not love the loss of my waist. I love the back surgery that saved me from excruciating pain, but I do not love the loss of my ability to run or jump or cavort on the beach - wait, that might not ALL be lost from the surgery - I am 50, after all. :)

I am at a crossroads of my life and I know it. I remember mourning my childhood at 30. Now I am mourning my vital adulthood at 50. My next phase - God willing it lasts another 20 years - will be challenging. To live fully, but not as energetically. To accept that each next phase will be slower and more measured than the one before. To measure and live life in moments, not years, for that is where I will find the wonder and love of God. I used to find Him in the uncontrollable energy that made me sprint down the beach while on summer vacations. Now I find Him in the depth of my footprints in the sand as I return from my walk on the beach - and know I have been "out there" in life and am now returning.

I am headed Home fulfilled and content, but I will deeply miss the energy of my Journey.