Hush Little Baby . . .

Entry for Scribbit’s March WriteAway Contest

THEME: The next 20 years ..

“Hush, Little Baby . . .”

I turn 40 this year. It is an odd time in my life, a mixture of reflection, soul searching and life planning from retirement funds to gravesites. Time enough to have learned a few things and time enough to do something about it.

My life is kind of like the third quarter in a football game. If down, you still have a chance to turn the game around. If up, you have to protect what you have. You still have time to lose it. By the end of the quarter, you have a good idea of where the game is heading but life still might throw you a couple of surprises, so be ready.

In the first 20 years of my life, I cared too much. I worked hard for good grades. I was the “good” girl. I got awards in community service in high school, while being daily humbled by my critical twin brother, as only a sibling can do. I wanted to get it right, whatever that meant. I cried if a teacher scolded or spoke harshly. Other people didn’t seem as affected by words as me and my insecurities. Fighting back only meant that those who hurt me with cruel words knew how to hurt me worse if I spoke up.

The next 20 years of my life, I learned not to care so much. It didn’t matter what my brother thought of me or my sister or my parents or anyone else with any say. I moved far away from home to find myself only to wish now I hadn’t moved so far. There are good and bad people everywhere. The telephone saved me, reminded me of my roots and the loving voices that did still care. Through that love, I found out what and who to care about. I found a loving voice close by who would become my dear husband. Titles flew out the window as my BSBA degree progressed to an M.S.B.A to Mrs. to MOM. I wish someone had told me to listen in Home Economics.

Everyone (namely my twin brother) must be getting more reflective now. People (again my twin brother) are starting to apologize and guess what, I don’t care so much any more about the mean taunts. I tell him they are nothing to me now. I’m good. You’re good. We are all good. I love you now and you love me and that’s what matters. I think we are growing up finally.

In the next 20 years from now, I want to prove something. I want to stick with something until I am good at it. I want to learn more, grow more, teach more. I want to care deeply, to think deeply, to know and share deeply. I am ready to be there for my children who are just now learning to care. I am ready to be there as my friends and I remind each other we need to care less about the approval of others and more about the approval of our Lord. And, I am ready to stick around as we mull, analysis and pick apart our caring priorities as friendships ebb and flow through the changing seasons of my life.

Most of all, in twenty years, I want to sit on a porch in the sunny shade in a brilliant white rocker and breathe in the budding spring daffodils as I hum my grandbabies to sleep in a freshly knitted or perhaps crocheted or perhaps quilted sky-blue baby blanket.

“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word . . .”

Comments

[Sister Honey Bunch]

Happy birthday girlfriend! I just turned 40 in November and could have written "In the next 20 years from now, I want to prove something." paragraph.

[Lisa]

Beautiful! As a fellow just-turned-forty, you summed it up well. This is a great time of life yet it brings unique challenges as we face our futures with the knowledge and insight we've gained along the way. May God continue with us both as we journey through the remainder of the days he has planned for us!

[Michelle at Scribbit]

That's something I've noticed too--I don't care about the stupid things as much as I used to.

[Denitra's Den]

sniff...sniff...sniff...