Age is Just a Number

As I was searching my archives to see if I had written anything for Josh's birthday last year, I came across this blog and remembered what was going on this time last year. It brought back a flood of memories. It still feels like yesterday that I was walking through Sam's with Karen looking for birthday presents for Josh. I got the call that my Dad was going into the hospital.

This has been a fun, happy weekend and I struggled with whether or not to post these private, personal struggles of mine. The year before last Kate turned 1 the week after Josh's birthday and so his kind of got overlooked in the hoopla. The year before that Sarah was starting kindergarten and I was fighting pre term labor. Then, last year I left Josh alone with the kids to travel to be with my Dad in the hospital. So, I really wanted this year to be special for him. I hope it was.

Still, as we celebrated I just haven't been able to shake the thought that this time last year my Dad was coming home from the hospital. He was "fine". That's what the dr. told us. The last time he had gone in for a cardioversion (on my birthday the year before) the dr. had mentioned the possibility of a pacemaker. This time when I questioned the dr. he assured us that everything was fine and that while that might be an option in the future, it wasn't needed. My Dad was so relieved. He felt way too young for a pacemaker. I still remember my friend Philip sent me a message on FB right before I left for Florida asking for my Dad's room number so he could visit. That meant a lot to my Dad. I remember that my sister surprised him by coming and we all had a good laugh after the cardioversion was over and my Dad sang the praises of the meds they had given him.

A year ago, everything was "fine". I mean, it wasn't great. I knew that. I knew that my Dad's health problems were more serious than he let on. More serious than any of us wanted to realize. But still, I know that in my heart I felt like we had time. Time for new medicines to work. Time for some of the stress in his life to be alleviated. Time for him to grow old before he got "that bad". I actually have an e-mail he sent me after we had talked about an experience we had together. He wrote, "I will never forget that drive to Mentone, Alabama even if i get Alzhiemers." I went back and re-read that after he passed and felt so conflicted. It broke my heart that he didn't live long enough to get Alzheimers, but of course that sounds crazy. So then a part of me felt thankful that while he is missing out on many of the joys of this life, he also missed out on much of the heartache and pain that is growing old.

I'm just sharing tonight. Hoping it will bring some healing to write these thoughts out, praying someone else might benefit from reading them. I am now less than a month from my 30th birthday and this time last year that seemed tragic. I was neck deep in the stress of planning my 10 year high school reunion, facing the last year of my 20's and feeling "so old". I wonder how my Dad felt when he turned 30. I'm sure he never in a million years thought he only had 25 years left. As I approach this milestone age I'm torn between feeling really old and also like a baby. Some of the experiences of life have left me feeling much older than my almost 30 years. But, as we serve our sweet congregation full of mostly elderly, retired members, I feel like a kid. As my Sunday School class passed around a birthday card to sign for Josh one of the ladies asked, "What, is he gonna be 19?"  I had to laugh. I know that is how they feel about us. We really are babies to them. Bless their sweet souls for putting up with us!

I've always heard the saying "Age is just a number" and it has become very true to me. I am so over dreading my 30th birthday. In fact, I want to get on my knees and say "Thank you God!!!" that He has given me this many years here. Many of the tough life experiences I've dealt with (many of which include losing loved ones before their time) have taught me that we are so greedy with our days. Instead of making the most of them, treasuring them and praising God for them, we waste them. We throw them away. We let precious time pass waiting for something better to happen. It may not, y'all. These may be your best days. Your sweetest days. Your only days. We just don't know. I sure hope I get to grow old with Josh. We've already planned our nursing home days and the list of instructions our caregivers will have. (I want my toenails painted at all times and 80's music on the radio and we will continue to share a bed even if it means we get kicked out of the nursing home.) I pray I get to be the 90 year old grandma that people half my age can't keep up with. (That is highly unlikely though, considering how slow I'm already moving!!!) It would bless my socks off to serve Thanksgiving meals attended by my great great grandchildren. So, please don't think I'm being fatalistic here. I LOVE life! Much of that love, however, comes from realizing that the days we have are gifts, not guarantees.

These are the things I'm reflecting on tonight. Celebrating my sweet hubby and overwhelmed with gratitude for the time I have with him, and grieving my Daddy and the experiences my Mom is missing with him. I'm so thankful I made that trip to see my Daddy in the hospital. I'm thankful for his 55 years. I'm thankful that life isn't just about the number of years we live, but what we do with the years we're given.