As I turn 51, I can’t decide: At this point in life, am I learning more than ever? Or just learning to live what I know?    

Either way, I’ve definitely learned since my last birthday. 

Around here, 2023 got off to a weird start.  One thing after another.  Much good.  Some, not-so-good.    

I’ve learned to expect that of Real Life.  Rather than worry about or try to control whatever is “wrong,” I’m trying to just become more grateful.  For every day that the good outweighs the not-so-good.  Because if I pay attention, it usually does.      

In the past year, we’ve navigated some hard, heavy things.  Even heartbreak.  Yet in all those things, there have been bright spots.  Lessons.  Days, hours, and moments that I believe will make us forever better.    

I’ve had my comfort zone stretched and my nerves frayed, and also taken away some of the best memories I could hope for. 

I’ve been humbled.  I learned I’ve taken far too much for granted.  I thought I had some things figured out.  Nailed down.  I forgot to remember that I never did, and that I need never stop asking God to keep them nailed down. 

I’ve learned at 51-years-old how much refining I still need.  And that undergoing it is hard. 

I’ve learned that, usually, the hard thing; the one I least want to do; is exactly the thing I most need to do. 

Usually. 

Because I’m also learning that I don’t need to accept every “opportunity.”  Not even ones I once wished for, or that I might someday wish for.  If it’s for me, God won’t let me miss it.  If it’s not, at least not right now, I can let it go. 

I’m learning to trust Him to help me know, in my soul, the difference.  

One recent story illustrates almost all these lessons:   

…Tommy and I had loosely planned a late-February Florida adventure.  A chance to blend work and play in that month when Pennsylvania winter isn’t quite over, but we’ve had our fill.      

It sounded like fun.  Then, so much happened:  Some hard things, punctuated by COVID’s debut (three years in!) at our house.  I ended up feeling an exhaustion and a winter “blah” I’ve never felt before.   

As our planned departure approached, I truthfully could have just skipped it and stayed home.  Even the thought of packing for the wide range of things we’d hoped to do felt overwhelming; like more than I felt motivated to take on.      

Not normal for me. 

We had some perfectly justifiable reasons to cancel.  We almost did.  But at the last minute, even though I didn’t necessarily feel excited about it, I voted to go.  In my soul, I knew I needed to. 

We went.     

We’d packed a lot into our plan, and as it unfolded, it felt like a lot.  I still felt far from my best.  But I deliberately decided not to let that ruin this experience:  The freest we’ve ever been to travel and experience new things on our own schedule.  I’d wished for that so many times.  I’ll likely wish for it again someday.  Knowing this opportunity mattered to us, I worked at feeling more grateful than “blah.”     

My good friend (who I’ve never met!) Annie says, “Our feelings can ride.  They can even pick the music.  But they don’t get to drive!”  Remembering that helped.  I’ve certainly let my feelings drive more often than I’ve meant to, and I’m learning that I can choose not to do that anymore.     

It doesn’t make logical sense, does it, that the thing I didn’t want to do was go to Florida at the end of a long winter?  I knew it didn’t. 

This needed to happen to me.  It became one of several recent experiences that have shown me how much compassion I’ve lacked.  I’m learning to, instead of judgmentally wondering “why” or “how” when others face struggles I don’t understand, remember that it could be me tomorrow...   

The pace of our trip revealed something else I’ve long known about myself, but that I feel becoming truer each year:  I need rhythm and routine in my life.  In the first 5-days, we had some truly fun adventures and special experiences.  And, by Day 6?  I needed some normalcy!  Especially morning Bible study and my usual amount of exercise.        

Fortunately, our last stop was Daytona:  My mother-in-law’s place on the beach, which she’s made feel like another home to us.  Settling in there sounded good.  On the afternoon we arrived, I promptly set off on a 5-mile beach walk.  Almost instantly, I began feeling better; more like myself. 

I repeated that walk every day for the next few, only after beginning them with my Bible and Atlantic sunrises.  Eventually, the “blah” began to lift. 

This needed to happen to me.  By now, I know the things I need and want to prioritize in my life.  I’m learning to believe that allowing anything, even good things, to crowd them out never serves me (and collaterally, anyone around me!) well. 

Up until our last full day, beyond my morning walks, I hadn’t even felt inclined to go to the beach.  More than just my mood had influenced that.  Back-to-back late 2022 hurricanes had destroyed a substantial amount of beach access.  So just getting there required significantly more effort than the usual stroll out the building’s back door.  On morning walks, I’d learned to follow the street for a block, cut through a parking lot, squeeze around a temporary fence, and slip across a fractured chunk of asphalt to finally step onto sand.  Given my mood, going through all that and hauling chairs and gear - and knowing that going back inside for anything would require reversal of that process?  It just hadn’t even felt worth it.    

But by that last afternoon, I’d done it several times.  It had begun to feel familiar, and I’d begun to feel slightly better.  I could slip down for a little while and relax with a book.  I’d keep it simple, feel grateful for the opportunity, and enjoy it.  Afterall, I’d been learning on this trip that I can choose that.

What happened next needed to happen to me.  Because I’m learning that if I dare think I’ve grown and changed, I might need to prove it…   

Days earlier, as we’d discussed possibilities for this leg of the journey, Tommy had said, “Maybe we’ll go to the beach!” 

He can generally take or leave sitting on the beach and certainly manages to find other things to do.  But since I remembered him saying that, now that it was my plan, I invited him.  I’d be happy if he joined me; equally content on my own if he’d rather do something else. 

He decided to join me.

He hadn’t yet set foot on the beach this trip, so I explained our options for getting there, emphasizing my goal of keeping it simple.  I still barely wanted to go.  Making it too much work wouldn’t help.  On my own, I wouldn’t even bother with a chair.  I had a bag with all I needed:  A nice blanket, my book, and a tumbler of water. I’d travel light… 

He wanted a chair.  As we hauled it out of storage, he said, “You know, we could do what everybody else does and just drive down there…”  We’d never done that before.  Never needed to.  (In my opinion, we still didn’t need to…) He’d had his now gleaming truck detailed that morning.  “Drive ON the beach?  In your clean truck?” I asked.  He didn’t care.  Walking sounded simple enough to me, but I didn’t argue. “Freedom for new experiences” and all…

Since I’d planned to read, I’d worn my new “reader” sunglasses.  (Does anything say, “I’m 51!” quite like feeling excited about reader sunglasses?)

Turns out, I’d also soon learn that reader sunglasses are best worn while sitting still. 

Maybe it’s good we hadn’t walked as I’d planned.  Making my way to the truck, I asked, “Have you ever tried to walk wearing reader sunglasses?”  He hadn’t.  “Well, don’t!” I advised.  “Am I walking like a giraffe… or maybe a flamingo?” It sure felt like it.  He neither confirmed nor denied. 

We pulled onto A1A and had barely hit second gear when we passed my makeshift beach entrance spot.  We kept going, scanning for a beach ramp sign.  (Significantly more challenging while wearing reader sunglasses!)  We’ve spent countless days there over the course of more than a decade, but I’d never paid attention to those.  Finally, I saw one, just up ahead.  Right before the barricade displaying the “Ramp Closed” sign. 

Deep breath…

We kept going, looking for the next one.  Feeling more “right” by the second, (We could have walked by now - giraffe/flamingo situation notwithstanding!) I managed to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open.  More blocks passed. 

Miles later, we eventually reached the only open beach ramp.  Then paid way too much money to claim a spot among the melee of hostile drivers all vying for the same ramp at the same time.    

I still didn’t say anything.  But my body language “might” have… 

Driving down that packed beach was a new experience.  We saw things we hadn’t seen before.  (Several, I’ll be fine to never see again!)  All the while, watching for darting toddlers, since a surprising number of parents apparently don’t bring situational awareness to the beach these days.

At least every turn of our shiny-clean-an-hour-ago-but-now-really-sandy wheels, was finally getting me closer to my beach time in the sun. 

Until…

Up ahead:  Were those brake lights?  Cars turning around?  Indeed.  Probably because of those “Driving Lane Closed” signs. 

Keeping quiet was over.

But I managed to stick with, “You know what?  Just let me out right here.  I can walk by the time you turn around and drive back through this mess!” 

Jesus walked everywhere he went.  So could I! 

Instead of any argument, I heard the doors unlock.  Hopping out onto the sand, I shouldered my bag and started walking.  (Probably like an angry flamingo.) 

I hadn’t made it far when my flip flops began rubbing.  Not needing blisters to ruin the morning walks I wanted to take, I stopped to yank them off.  While I was at it, I yanked off my coverup, too.  I’d wanted the beach and sunshine.  Technically, I had it.  (And surely, this must be a test about making the best of things!)  I also grabbed my phone and started my Peloton app.  If I was taking another walk after my morning 5-miler, I might as well make it count! 

Until this unplanned trek, I hadn’t realized how much my beach bag weighs.  The irony:  Three days ago, I’d been so out of sorts and longing for exercise.  Maybe I should also learn to be careful about what I wish for… This had suddenly become a workout!         

One-point-seven-five sandy miles later, I arrived:  In exactly the spot to which, more than an hour earlier, I’d wanted to take a five-minute walk. 

More irony:  The driving ramp we’d originally sought?  It had reopened. 

It might not have been my day, but it was evidently Tommy’s.  I hadn’t even spread out my blanket yet when he pulled up behind me and parked.  As if we’d actually planned it that way. 

He apologized, and we laughed. 

I’m trying to do more of that, too. 

Choosing joy and laughter can change most situations for the better.  I haven’t always done that, but I’m learning to…

And so I know, in my soul:  All that’s happened - In the past year, and so far in my life - has needed to happen. 

I’ve often taken the long, hard way to where I really want to go.  It’s challenged, taught, and changed me on my way to becoming who and what God created me to be.  And that, I realize more with each passing year, is all I want to be. 

May He continue to guide me… and patiently, kindly… keep sanding and refining my rough edges.