At some point during my childhood, I’m not sure when, I got
this “sense” (I’m not sure what else to call it) that I would not live past 35
years old. I can’t explain it other than
to say that it is just something I felt and, honestly, felt very sure of. It was just one of those facts of life for
me. For a while there, during my black
years of depression, it certainly felt more imminent. I spent so many days and years in my youth
wishing for it all (pain and life) to just go away.
Turning 35 was difficult.
It was not an easy birthday. That
feeling loomed over me for a lot of that year.
Obviously, I made it past that time.
Next week, I’ll be 47 years old.
I don’t know why I ever felt or thought that I would not live past
35. It wasn’t an anxiety based
thing. I accepted it as fact in my
life. I’ve often wondered the genesis of
it, yet I still don’t have an answer. As
I write this and process it, I’m thinking about my life before and after age
35. At 31, I, with God’s help, forgave
my “biggie” in life and was able to heal a gaping wound. At 34, I returned to college to try a couple
of classes to see how I would do in going back to college for psychology and
counseling degrees, which was a major departure from my engineering design
drafting career. At 35, I was off and
running full steam in that direction. I
became a Christian when I was almost 30 but my biggest, most incredible God
moment/miracle happened when I was 34 and it solidified my faith in ways that
nothing else did or could have.
So, when I look at it this way, I wonder if God was, through
that sense I had, preparing me for big changes in my life. In many ways, I see now in hindsight that my
life took big turns at that time: turns spiritually, turns in my healing from
child sexual abuse, and turns in my career.
In many ways, it was the end of one life and the start of another. Perhaps, for me, 35 was a rebirthday.
In the end, what it has done is make me grateful for the
days I have. That is not to say that I
am perfect at it. Certainly, there are
some days that I wish would just go away.
But, overall, I am grateful for the present given to me. Perhaps that is another point in this.
This past weekend we celebrated my next oldest sister’s 50th
birthday. She was not happy about
it. But, as my oldest sister said,
“Tough titties! Tim didn’t want a party
either and he got one!” I’ve joked that “I
am not going to turn 50. I simply refuse
it.” However, the fact is that it is a
day to celebrate. Not because it’s your
birthday, but because it is one more day given.
Now there’s a birthday present!
Here's a pic of the women in the family.
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