50
Today is my 50th birthday. Not only do I not care who knows, I’m proud to be 50. Here are the things I’m proud of:
Two days shy of 22 years of marriage. That ain’t easy. You don’t know someone until you share a toothpaste tube, and you don’t really know them until you’ve seen for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health up close and personal.
My girls. They are 16 and 20, and beyond the maternal love for them, I admire and respect them as people. They are smart, beautiful, gifted and accomplished in their own right. Jim and I have raised them to be people of faith; they have made that faith their own and it guides their daily lives and shapes their future. Though I can’t claim credit, I hope that in some small way I’ve contributed to the young women they are today.
Wisdom. I’m much smarter at 50 than I was at 20. I wrote about wisdom a year ago.
Perspective. I love that I remember the original version of the songs my kids like today. And I get to laugh at the invariably crappy remakes. I’ve seen bell-bottoms be in style twice. And when my kids laugh at my prom pictures, I’m old enough to know that in a few short years, they will laugh at their own.
Relationships. The group of people pictured above is my daughter, Sara Ann, and her group of friends. Over the past few years, I’ve watched them grow up — through middle school, Myspace, AIM, puberty, cell phones, Facebook, drivers licenses and now college visits.
Anyone who is disenchanted with today’s teens has never met this group. Earlier this week, they threw me a surprise birthday party. They bought me a wonderful present, cooked the food, but my favorite gift is the oversize card that each one signed with a personal message. I’m going to frame it and hang it in my office.
It’s only been a few hours, but so far, 50 rocks.
