Growing Young…
By: Mary Beth Rice
My son, Jack, shared his perspective on “growing up” the other day. He prefers to use the term “progressing” when describing his maturation, so he doesn’t feel like he has to give up or let go of pieces of his past—experiences from his childhood. He wants to hold all of what makes him Jack, together in one space—in his present day 23-year old self. I smile to myself because I have a journal full of “Jack-isms” from toddlerdom to adulthood, ensuring the capture of his unique humor and logic. This declaration is certainly journal-worthy!
His thought resonates with one of my favorite children’s authors, Madeleine L’Engle, who once said that “the great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.” She suggests in this string of thought that if we lose any part of ourselves, we are diminished—marveling that we could, in fact, be three, sixteen or fifty-seven simultaneously. She argued that retaining a child’s awareness and joy allows us to “really learn what it means to be a grownup.”
Imagine fist pumps and Halleluiahs to the sky! I will hang on that thought for the rest of my life! Of late, my mind has been consistently transfixed on the word JOY. That is what this sight for musing, pondering and sharing will be about. The recollection and reflection of past experiences, the current state of affairs and the hope for the future—all connected with a focus on joy, infused perhaps with an insight or challenge. Thoughts laced with childlike wonder. We have, after all, too much heaviness in our midst, don’t we? I admit to being a bit too adult-ish at times in my childhood, so I am more than OK with time spent being child-ish in my adulthood. Friends—Let’s switch up the focus!
As this new decade has been rolling out, I have felt SOOO many ages! When home to help my mom struggling with Parkinson’s, I feel 15 again, running into the parents of childhood friends. In contrast, my 8-year-old self recently spent time in the back yard on an unusually balmy winter afternoon, rolling up our annual “Summer Snowman” —three foil covered balls, readying for hibernation in the basement deepfreeze until the specified hot summer day. (Make your own Summer Snowman! See Joymaking)
Another example of feeling several ages simultaneously has been in holding space for family friends whose husband and father recently passed away from brain cancer. He was so young, and my fifty-something self has empathy for his wife and for my mom, who lost her own husband at 59. Yet, instead of looking at this situation only through the heart of a spouse, I suddenly feel 30 again, watching and waiting with my own dad as he passed in similar fashion. Emotions and memories flood back. I recall the sleepless nights on the faux leather hospital bench outside dad’s hospital room, keeping vigil, and then being in that thin sacred space with my parents and brother when dad moved on.
I see the heartache in our friends’ faces and I am a child again, losing a father. Yet, at the same time, I look at my own four children and see reflections of my lost loved ones, the gentle nuances, and I feel less heartache and more joy, less sadness and more peace. So, it is—in being many ages at one time.
In this emotional shifting from one age to the next, do we transform into someone all together new or are we parts and pieces of who we have always been? Is it both the heartache and joy that makes us who we are, keeping us in balance? I wonder. Life is pretty amazing. Creating joy, noticing joy, CHOOSING joy and sharing joy with others does take some focus…and delightfully so, especially amidst heartache and struggle.
Let’s get to it! Let’s be makers of joy one moment at a time.