This post has nothing to do with atmospheric conditions or skin care. It is a reflection about our trips around the sun. Tomorrow I will celebrate 71 of them. I am not fishing for birthday wishes of happiness and joy (though always appreciated). Rather, I am using it as an opportunity to reflect, thinking that some of you reading are seeing similar numbers on the odometer of life.
I am grateful that I have thus far been spared the chronic ailments often associated with a significant accumulation of sun circles. To the best of my knowledge, I don’t have diabetes or cardiovascular issues, though they are prevalent in my family. I do have some wear and tear. Here is my list of boo-boos:
A concussion. When I was in third grade, I was riding down the pothole-laden hilly street I lived on with no hands on the handlebars and I hit a pothole, was thrown and knocked unconscious, lying on the street. That landed me in the hospital with a broken eye orbit and lots of abrasions on my face.
A broken arm. A brat kid tripped me as I was running while waiting for the school bus in fourth grade. Both bones of my arm were almost sticking out of my skin, but I got on the bus and walked home a good distance from the bus stop. (I know it sounds the tales of our parents who walked to school, uphill both ways through massive snow drifts, but it is true.)
A broken nose. I was teaching a kid how to play racket ball without allowing enough distance from his surprising reach.
A torn calf muscle. I was heavily involved in a water fight with my grandson Sam, who was nine at the time. Something hit me (still don’t know what) as the muscle was taunt. It disabled me for some time.
Two torn rotator cuffs. The right arm was victim to falling off a ladder. The left from putting up a tent. For both, I avoided surgery but needed physical therapy.
Surgery on my left, lower eyelid. It had drooped (and is doing it again). An age thing. It hurt and looked terrible for a while.
A gallbladder attack. I thought I was having a heart attack. The offending organ is no longer with me.
Now you have my medical records whether you were interested or not.
Yes, there are more aches and pains, and I make more trips to the bathroom. However, I can do most anything I used to, though it may take me longer. I get more tired out. Fortunately, I have learned short cuts for some things (the wisdom of age).
This all seems normal to me, for my age.
I value simple things more, a quiet, but productive day, the absence of trauma and drama, a conversation with a friend or neighbor, my playful puppy, sitting with Patty in our backyard watching the hummingbirds, playing guitar, creating something, going for a walk, an engaging story, a good party or outdoor festival.
It seems like in many ways I am the same inside, still a little insecure, still hating conflict, still disliking the feeling of confinement, still struggling with some anxiety.
Yet, I have accepted and made peace with the flaws of my life, whether they be ones of my parents or other people or myself. I am working to face those things, learn from them, and then leave them alone in the past where they belong.
I am getting better at living in the moment and enjoying it. I realize that difficult times will pass, and I can learn and grow through them.
One lesson learned is we all need to do something: a job, a parttime retirement job, a small business, volunteer work, or a hobby; something that we enjoy.
My goal is to live a life of love, and I sometimes I fall on my face. I have distilled my faith and my life owning and sharing the peace, love, and joy given to me by God. Looked at another way, with God I have peace. With others, the main thing is to love them. With life, to never miss an opportunity to see the joy.
So, ends circle #70 and begins #71.
I am in solidarity we all of you navigating this stage of life with all of its challenges and joys.
