An Accidental Education

My son recently asked me a very interesting question while we were clearing the dinner table.  Actually, we weren't clearing the table, he was just holding his plate and walking slowly around the kitchen, as is his method of getting me to do most of the work.

With the hint of a grin he asked, "Mom, if you were to go back in time to talk to your 20-year-old self, what would you tell yourself to do differently?"

His question surprised me for a few reasons.  First, he's thirteen.  He wants very little to do with me in general, much less ask probing questions to get me talking to him MORE.  Secondly, it surprised me because of the emotion it evoked.  I felt as if I was back in high school and the teacher called on me while I was daydreaming.  "You'd better pass this test, Red," I told myself.

Instead of answering right away, I asked him a question.

"Do you think it would be wise of me to warn myself of the future?  Maybe tell my young self about the illnesses to pop up in our family or warn myself of the divorce that would occur after 15 years of marriage?"

This last part I added very gently... I didn't want him to think I felt it would be a bad idea.  I wanted to know if he thought the warning would be helpful or hurtful.

He said, "Nah... you couldn't do that.  You wouldn't do that.  But maybe you could tell yourself to study law or medicine instead of elementary education.  Something that would actually pay you some real money."

In my twenties I may have described myself as a passionate teacher, adoring wife, good daughter and an open-minded, clumsy, fun-loving girl. 

At 42, I can describe myself as a passionate learner, a lover of life, a fiercely dedicated mother, a grateful daughter, a cancer survivor, a late-stage Lyme-thriver, an open-hearted, clumsy lover-of-God and a woman who looks hard for the good in every situation.

Progress!  42 ain’t so bad…

Things I’ve learned now that I’m “middle-aged”

I love a compliment as much as the next gal, but when someone tells me I’m beautiful while I’m wearing my night guard, zit cream and my hair in a rooster tail, I know they love the real me.  And that compliment is better than any I could ever imagine.

I am stronger now because I know more of my weaknesses.

When I realize a friend-for-a-season is not a friend-for-a-lifetime, I will feel awful for a while until I count my blessings again.

I’ve learned gratitude truly is the key to happiness.

I care much less that people understand exactly where I’m coming from—I care more about showing others empathy and how much I want to understand them.  (Although I don’t always shut up when the time is right)

I care less now about whether my children are popular, smart and well-liked.  I now pray they understand life is not fair, but will be kind, generous, resilient, thoughtful and able to see how Love Always Wins anyway.

I’ve learned praying is not something just “religious” people do, it’s sometimes something people do when they’ve experienced miracles and can’t wait to talk to the Big Guy in charge again.

I’ve learned to properly accept a compliment… Thank you.

I am prone to protect my solitude, but when I push myself to go to that party or join friends for lunch, I’m always so grateful I did.

When one of my children gets a teacher who makes them feel adored, I will want to lavish gifts upon that person until they feel a little freaked out… and maybe contemplate getting a restraining order.

I’ve learned a man with gentle confidence, but not cockiness, and who has a genuine face is more attractive than a great physique or a flawless smile.  Teeth are good to HAVE though—don’t get me wrong.

One reason we endure the process of pain is so we can be sympathetic supporters of hurting souls who need our help.

I’ve learned I can put up Christmas lights all by myself, and they look damn good!

I’ve learned women who exude genuine interest in other women have a healthy amount of self-esteem.

I’ve learned I will always, always, always want my parents to live just an hour away.

I’ve learned there is strength in leaving the house without makeup on when you know you will see those who may remark to others in a hushed, concerned tone, “She’s just not looking well.”

I’ve learned I WANT to like cooking, but I can now admit I don’t really like cooking at all.  I like eating.

When I learn of a child’s death, whether I knew him or not, I will mourn and become fearful if I don’t pray immediately.

I’ve learned to stop comparing myself to all of the successful women I know.  There will always be someone smarter, more creative, funnier, etc… I just have to be the best Ginny I can be.

I’ve learned living with a chronic illness doesn’t mean I have to be a chronic pain in the ass.

Children are always watching how we react in unfair and unfortunate circumstances.  Our gift to them is trying our best to consistently show them what grace looks like.

I’ve learned divorce is much like having your heart ripped out of your chest repeatedly while having the stomach flu, until one day you see your ex and realize God was protecting you and your children.

I’ve learned how very much I’ve missed writing down my thoughts and feelings because I’m not sure exactly WHAT I think until I’ve expressed it!