By MARY ANN HUGHES
GRACE NOTES
This story starts back in the mid-1970s. I was working in downtown Evansville, and I was heading to meet my then-boyfriend, Steve, for lunch.
I caught a glimpse of him about three or four blocks away. He spotted me too, and then he started jumping up in the air like an Irish leprechaun.
I was puzzled at first, but then it dawned on me: He had just learned that he had passed the bar!
I was right. He had worked so hard in law school, sometimes holding down four part-time jobs. His childhood dream was to become a lawyer; and that day, his dream had come true. I was so happy to share in his happiness.
Nearly 50 years later, he received the James Bethel Gresham award from the local bar association. It was a bookends moment for me, and I was so happy to share in his happiness once again.
During the last two years, as I have aged and as my life has narrowed, I’ve learned about simple pleasures:
- Having a pen full of ink for my crossword puzzles.
- Enjoying flowers blooming on my shamrock plant.
- Spotting a cardinal on my patio.
- Pausing my life to savor brilliant sunrises and soft sunsets.
It’s quite a departure from the life I led in my 30s, when I was the busy mother of two. It’s also different from my life in the workforce, a life that was filled with strict deadlines and often-heavy demands.
Probably like most retirees, I have wonderful memories; but I don’t want to go back.
I think the secret to aging well is accepting exactly where you are in life.
I have always cherished the words from Ecclesiastes that remind us that “to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”
The writer tells us about:
- The time to plant and the time to harvest.
- The time to tear down and the time to build.
- The time to mourn and the time to dance.
- The time to be silent and the time to speak.
The older I am, the more these words make sense as I accept the rhythm of aging, which has its own music and tempo.
But the writer of Ecclesiastes 3 also notes, “There is nothing better than to rejoice.”
That’s what I did when my husband of 47 years received his award. I rejoiced.