A Cup of Conversation – November 2014

The world is changing and once reasonable expectations for the next generation are now pretty much off the table. For twenty-five years we’ve called Southern Oregon home, raised our kids and built a life upon the foundations of what is now so familiar. Change is in the air, though, unmistakable and exciting in a weary sort of way because we’re both a little tired from mileage logged on the highway of life-happens.

The kids are gone but Mary still leaves the porch light on. It must be a mom-thing although the youngest will fly in to refuel a couple times. I’m starting to feel that restlessness again not unlike the haunting decades ago before the journey leading us here. The difference is youth was with me then. This isn’t a mid-life crisis because I already spent mine sick as a scurvy dog. Not to worry, honey, I’m too much a realist to attempt re-capturing a youth long since passed.

We forged many relationships here with some very special bonds enduring the test of time. In friendship as in family, big storms always reveal the moorings anchored in bedrock. Anything lesser gets loosed in the rip currents of next. We’ve gone the distance here by any measure. Our hearts are filled with gratitude for all the good in our life and strengthened by the not so good. We’ve known magnificent grace. Life-altering mercy can’t be counterfeited, only abused and forgotten. We can never forget what is required to overcome the gravity of adversity.

Even the climate now is a different shade of gray. Once upon a time we looked forward to winter and long walks on Mt. Ashland or cross-country skiing at Lake of the Woods. Now the winter brings only the freezing fog and aches and pains of older age. Mary always said she was a land-locked beach girl. Maybe the tides will raise enough to carry us out beyond the breakers of no viable options to the warmer currents of anything’s possible. We’re ready for another adventure simply by accepting the inevitable tide of next.

Our oldest just finished a long deployment in Japan. He surprised us by showing up on our doorstep to spend a week before the Navy called him back to San Diego where he’ll finish twenty years in service to our great nation. He’ll retire the first half of his life with an officer’s pension at the ripe old age of thirty-nine. The United States Navy has trained him to be a leader, a man of great respect and high-technical achievement. In addition, soon he’ll have a fully-accredited master’s degree in Aeronautical Engineering without ever stepping foot on a university campus or writing one inflated tuition check. I’m so proud of our kids it’s hard to breathe. They, too, are overcomers and their next is also just around the corner.

My days are now spent preparing more for passing the baton than crossing the finish line. I was reminded of this watching the speed-skating competition during the Winter Olympics. Have you noticed the athlete in rotation always slows down before the baton can be carefully passed on to the next? We’ve been blessed with a great life here and even greater by quality young people lifting us up to carry the burdens of labor and toil we simply cannot manage anymore. Don’t misunderstand me. We’re clearly not ready for next yet and we’ll always keep a footing on this side of the divide. However, when the time comes, those to whom the baton is passed may run a faster pace but never a greater race.

A Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.