A Pirate Looks at 50

Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and be a member of the exclusive "50 year old club"! It is also Becky's first day of kindergarden, and the day belongs to her.  So today, I will reflect on my big day and share my testimony. 

Many of you reading this don't know me personally, or know me recently. There are a few who have known me before I was Doug's wife and the girls mom - but not many. 

It's impossible to see the miracle of my life today without knowing a bit about where I have come from - about what God has done in my life. It's not my husband. It's not my kids.It's not our house, car or other possessions.

 It's my redemption. 

I used to be “That” woman. We all know her – the one in line behind you at the grocery store at 5 pm muttering under her breath about controlling your raging child while glaring at you with her dagger eyes.  The lady who desperately prays as you board the plane with your toddler that you won’t be near her; when you are, she gets up and insists on a seating change.

The phrase “looking for love in all the wrong places” is perhaps the most accurate description of the first 39 years of my life.  The objects of my affections were not limited to men – they included expensive cars, extravagant clothes, over the top trips and a lifestyle that exhibited an attitude that if some was good, more was better. The thrill of the moment was exhilarating if not long lasting. If I wanted something, I bought it – with no regard to the cost or the lasting value of it.  My life looked satisfying and successful and wonderful from the outside – the perfect “San Diego Magazine” cover, but inside lacked substance or satisfaction.

For much of my adult life, church had been a Sunday sojourn when life got really tough or nasty. When the activity of the previous week failed to bring any sense of peace or satisfaction, I occasionally found myself on a Sunday morning soothing my soul with the familiar liturgy of my childhood.  It was a balm that lasted a day – maybe two at best, never getting more than a passing glance.

One early summer night in 2001– after a yet another unsuccessful attempt to fill the void deep within, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I realized just how tired I was of my life. I imagined myself crawling into the hand of God – literally curling up into a ball within His palm, closing my eyes, and asking to stay there.  I rested for the first time in a long time, giving up my hyperactive chase for the ever-illusive happiness.

I would love to say that my life was immediately transformed into one of an obedient and faithful woman of God, but in truth, I was slow to release all areas of my life to God’s guidance.  I heard His voice when circumstances found me unemployed and turned aay from the profession that I had previously very successfully enjoyed; a place where money was the God to be worshipped with confidence and conviction and I was richly rewarded for faithful service yet I refused to heed the tenant of being equally yoked – after all, what could God possibly know about being a 39 year old single woman?

I was reluctant to believe that I could truly be forgiven for all the errors of my youth – for the harmful choices I had made.  I read about being made clean and being a new creation in Jesus, but it took a walk through the Boston Public Gardens on a cold November morning to truly deliver the release and cleansing I so desperately desired.

I walked through the colorless and gray landscape as if on automatic pilot, knowing where I was going without a thought after living there for 10 years several years past. The streets and landmarks were familiar yet not. I was at home, yet I felt like a stranger.  My physical presence was comfortable there, yet my soul and spirit felt strangely out of place.  I was a different person now than when I lived there, yet the same person.

It was the most perfect example of a new creation – and it became the reality for me in that moment.  Transformed. I finally understood what it felt like to claim for myself a new life in Jesus. It wasn’t that the deeds of my past didn’t exist – it was that they no longer defined me and I no longer had to carry them around wherever I went.

I used to be a woman who didn’t value children – God’s redemption (or sense of humor) has made me the mother of 3 small children at 50.  My eyes were turned away from myself and onto the things of His heart. The transformation of my heart was so radical that it could only be through the power of something as grand as God.

My life is significantly different than on that summer evening 10 years ago.  The convertible BMW has been replaced by an aging minivan loaded with car seats.  The single first class airline ticket has been traded in for 5 seats together in coach. The personal shopper at Saks doesn’t know me, but the late night pharmacist and I are close. 

I am no longer That woman – I am now woman in the line at the grocery store with the tantruming child. I am the woman on the plane – with three children – desperately praying for grace filled people in the seats around me.

Redeemed. That's what 50 means to me