Sixty-five

Today I turned sixty-five years old. I don’t know exactly what I expected from this age, but for sure I did not expect it to happen 10 minutes after I turned 25. How does time go by so quickly? That has been a frequent question of mine over the years, especially as the kids grew up. Alas, none of us have figured out how to slow the clock down or turn it back, despite time travel being a frequent topic of science fiction media. And even though I’m not quite sure how my age now adds up to such a big number, I am grateful for every one of my sixty-five years.

How does it feel to be sixty-five? Not bad at all! I mean there are days when I definitely notice parts of my body that I didn’t notice twenty years ago. I’m doing some physical therapy on my achy shoulder right now. I had minor surgery on my achy foot last year. I had cataract surgery earlier this year. These are all signs of aging, for sure, but there are benefits as well. I’m a lot more relaxed than I was in my younger days. I am much better at waiting – not perfect, of course, but better. I laugh at myself so easily and don’t often get embarrassed about mistakes that I can own up to and apologize for. In those ways and many others, life is easier now than it was when I was younger.

For the last forty-one of my sixty-five years, I have walked hand in hand with R.J. Traff. He challenges me, supports me, protects me, and loves me. Our hands fit together so well. Our “kids” are currently 30, 32, 34, and 36 years old – another sign that I am not young anymore, in spite of the fact that my brain says I should be one of those ages. Emily, Joseph, Laura, and David all live here in town and each one of them finds ways to bless me regularly. I am a mother-in-law twice over and feel honored to call Eric and Andrew my sons.  One of my best titles is Grandma, another definite perk of aging. Elle and Liam light up my days just by being themselves. I’m ready to be grandma for the third time any day now. Even if I can’t travel to the past, I see into the future through my children’s and grandchildren’s eyes.

I have some great memories from these sixty-five years of mine. As I continue to wax nostalgic, here are six-and-a-half favorite memories from my six-and-a-half decades of life. (The obvious favorites of our wedding and the birth of each of the kids and grandkids will be set aside this time, in favor of more broad-stroke memories.)

Number 1: Growing up in a small town afforded me many wonderful memories: having my mom as my kindergarten teacher, playing flashlight tag or stargazing on summer nights, spending time in a magical place the neighbor kids all called Treesville, riding horseback through farmer’s fields, and running barefoot through the neighborhood until my feet were fully calloused by the end of the summer.  We enjoyed small classes at school and a small church on Sundays - places where everyone knew everyone. In Fountain, “June is Dairy Month” meant free milk at the local bank, a treat of a magnitude that I can’t adequately explain as an adult. Growing up in that little town in the 60s and 70s definitely shaped who I am today. The Kellys, the Klockemans, the Spelhaugs, the Littles, the Mangans, the Beforts, the Gillespies, the Grindlands, the Bergs, the Camberns, and so many more families will always remain dear to me.

My kindergarten class, with my mom as our teacher

Dad and I were getting ready for a ride around town.

Number 2: Our family vacation up north every summer was (and still is) a time that filled me with joy. There was the anticipation leading up to the event itself, with days ticking off ever-so-slowly as we approached departure day. There was the way we always left home at 3:00 in the morning, with Mom or Dad carrying me to the car, still in my jammies. I can hear the crickets and feel the excitement. There was the week on a lake, going fishing with my brothers, going swimming and playing on the raft with other vacationers, and going into town to shop for souvenirs. I’m the youngest in the family, and as my brothers’ lives started including their wives and children, they all kept on coming up north with us. I was delighted to spend time with my nieces and nephews, as I became Aunt Liz at the age of 12. I am emotionally overwhelmed to think that this tradition that started well before I was born might just keep going long after I’m gone. Charlie and Audrey Arnold, what a legacy you have given to us!

A vacation from when I was a teenager. That's me on the far left.

This past year's vacation

Number 3: Winona, Minnesota, is where I went to college, but it’s so much more than that to me. My faith blossomed in that place, with the help of several different campus ministries and many great friends. I met and fell in love with R.J. there. Many other lifelong friendships began there. I deepened my love for the beautiful world God made as I lived among the bluffs for nine years. I still go back there every chance I get, especially in the fall when those bluffs are ablaze in color. Winona is a place where I can slow down and hear my heart.

A Koinonia service, one of my WSU ministries

Me, surrounded by classic college items of the day - 
a "Heaven Can Wait" poster, popcorn popper, guitar, etc.

Image from a more recent trip to Winona

Number 4: A prayer shower given by folks at a little church on Center Street occurred right at the start of our thirty-three-year relationship (so far) with a body of believers who truly do love God and serve their neighbors. My friend Sara and I were approached by someone in the church who asked if we would like a prayer shower for our soon-to-be-born babies. We had never heard of such a thing, but we didn’t let that unfamiliarity make us say no. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was just the beginning of a deeper and richer prayer life for me. My friends from that church have prayed me through so many difficult life experiences. We have laughed and cried together over and over again, and there are more memories than I would be able to write down from our time together.

No pictures from the prayer shower, but this is a pic of Sara
and me, outside the church, as we were expecting Josh & Laura.

Number 5: Traveling to Prince Edward Island, Canada, was just a dream for ten years. Dreaming about something for that long was a treasure in itself. R.J. and I nurtured that dream and developed it until it finally became a reality on our 30^th anniversary. We fell in love with that far away place because of the Anne of Green Gables books, of course, but there is so much more to it than just that. It was our first vacation without our kids and our first time to take three weeks away from home. I cried for a day as we started to drive back home, mostly because I didn’t want the dreaming to be over. It wasn’t. We returned five years later. Then another five years after that, we invited the family to join us for a week in our paradise. We plan to go again on our 45^th anniversary. I love the dreaming, the planning, and the collaborating with my husband that are involved in going to Prince Edward Island. I have three large Shutterfly books that help me keep all those wonderful memories fresh in my mind.

R.J. and me, celebrating 40 years of marriage on Prince Edward Island

Number 6: Friday night pizza night is another ongoing tradition. It started back when our family was young. We would make pizza and then watch Stargate SG1, Monk, and Psych most Friday nights for a long time. As time went on, Friday became a movie night for a while. At present, we make our pizzas and then watch a half hour show while we eat. After that (and before that) we play with the kids and chat. We all live in town and everyone makes it to pizza night most Fridays – but it’s no big deal if you have to miss one week, as it will always be there the following week. I love the simplicity and the consistency. I love that my grandchildren look forward to pizza night each week, as do my children. I love it as a connecting point for our family.

Family pizza night last night, as we celebrated my birthday together

And a half: The pain of goodbyes may seem out of place on this list, and in most straightforward ways, it is. We have said goodbye to so many dear people in our lives: Mom, Dad, Jessi, Becki, Les, Barb, Janel, Janice, Chuck, and so many more. The goodbyes themselves tried to rip my heart out. They were not joyful occasions – but there are memories surrounding each of these final goodbyes that I treasure. People supported me/us in a million small and large ways at the time of these deaths, from bringing us meals, to offering to do chores for us, to helping me write thank you notes, and of course to praying for us. So while I won’t jump in with both feet to call the pain of grief and loss a “favorite” memory, it can hold the status of “good” (or maybe “half-good”), as I know for a fact that the goodness of God and others shone through in those deeply difficult times in my life.

So there you have it! I have rambled on long enough. Thank you for loving me and putting up with my sappy self for sixty-five years! I embrace this age as I have every other age along the way, grateful for each of the 23,742 days I have lived and hopeful for a few thousand more. I am indebted to my Savior, Jesus Christ, for blessing me so completely. To my tribe: I hope you know how much you mean to me and how very loved and appreciated you are.

Happy birthday to me, because I now qualify for EVERY senior discount!

Me, today - I'm 65!