The Next Leg of My Journey

Three quarters of a century. 😳

I can remember when I thought 40 years was a long time to have lived, and now I am looking 75 in the face, in just a couple of weeks. Knowing that many don't want to (or won't) acknowledge their years, kind of throws me. I think I know the reasoning behind it, but really??? For real, why???

I take a lot of pleasure in knowing how far I have come, and the fact I am still waking up with strength and breath in my body. There is much of my childhood that I don't remember, and enough of it that I wouldn't want to go back there. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all the training I had as a child. All the strength I gained from the morals and high standards we were exposed to and required to hold. And because of it, I have never thought of work as something to hate, or dread. Monday's have never resonated any differently than the other days in the week. It was just another day to be thankful for. Another day to believe in what our hands were given to do as a substantial means of providing for ourselves. Work was, and is, a blessing from God to us. We could always lay our heads down on a pillow at night and be grateful for another day of work. Tired, yes. But also satisfied. So, it isn't because of this reality that I would never want to go back. I love that part of my upbringing. I believe in myself because of it. Most of the time, anyway. AND, I know how to survive in a world without it giving me anything I haven't worked for. Nor do I expect our government to pay for any of my decisions that cost money.

There was a turning point in my adult life, that I realized the years were slipping away. It was in my early to mid 40's. I will never forget walking past a mirror, and then stepping back to take another look. "Who in the world is that?" I asked. It was as if I had gone to bed the night before and woke up a completely different person. Physically. It was only a few weeks beyond that day that I put up a picture of my graduation from Miami Beauty College. Yep. That's the pic you are now looking at. That was me in 1974. THAT is who I was. Who I am. Those are the years that resonate with me the most. It took me many a year to come to grips with the changes that were happening. Those were the early years of finally realizing I was becoming who I was suppose to be. Not as a hair designer. Just as a human being, having been knitted together in my mother's womb to become someone that reflected the goodness of God. I have failed (miserably at times) in that, as a young (possibly overworked) mom. But I did have some winning moments, and grace was extended to me as I walked daily in blessings I didn't really deserve, but am so grateful for. And that's another story...

The Voyage of Life is a series of four paintings created by Thomas Cole in 1842, representing an allegory of the four stages of human life. The paintings are of Childhood, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age, depicting a voyager who travels in a boat on a river through the mid-19th-century American wilderness. Copies of these paintings hang on my entry wall. I have loved them ever since I came across them as a young homeschool educating mom. A few years before moving to North Carolina, our oldest daughter purchased them for me and I wasn't about to leave them behind. They speak to me.

So, if I were to point to the picture that best identifies the place I am in my personal journey, today, it would be the last of the four. That's not to say I think my life is over and I am on my last leg. Oh no. It's only just begun, in many ways. Okay. In SOME ways.

And now? Well, I'm not quite sure where I'm heading. I only know it is a different season in my life and where it will take me is still a bit obscure. But I'm ready to find out. Mostly...

When I know, you'll know. Until then, here I'll remain...in Mary's World.