Tag: joy

In search of wonder

It was after a recent conversation with a friend that I had come to ponder the adventure of midlife. It seemed that in all that we had become over the years, our life journey was often about an ongoing search for bigger and better things. Whether it was the bigger house for growing a family, a better job for making a vacation possible, or the support of the eventual goals of children as they charted their own paths – it was always about finding more.

Understanding that every parent’s journey is different, mine was often busy with the job of lookout: signs of a fever, family passions to support, or my kids’ falling grades. My world was being on guard, ready to respond in a time of need. Little did I realize that this mode of always being on watch takes a heavy toll as you are not often open to the joy of what is happening all around you. Always monitoring, ever managing, it is easy for the wonder in the world to pass you by.

When my household said goodbye to my children and we became a home of two, I was able to take the time I’d made for myself to cultivate my friendships, family relationships, and seek out new and fun experiences I’d not been able to do before now. Some of my friends who are retired share that retirement allowed them to travel and accomplish things they’d put off doing in their younger years. But retirement is nowhere close for me, just as winning the lottery to fund my exploration is a realistic option these days. So after a quieter life of dinners and trips and volunteer work, the discovery of something new wanes and routine rubs the shine away from our world. The sparkle is seen through a lens of practicality and I had to ask: Is this all there is in midlife?

I reflected on this question for quite a while. Even as I interviewed for a new job this past year, I noted how much I focused on all that that I had accomplished to set me apart from other candidates. And that dreaded question, “Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?” Truth be told, my real answer wasn’t going to impress anyone, but reflect how I saw my midlife search for joy. I wanted a job that fulfilled my desire for challenge as well as work-life balance. I wanted the ability to explore what I had missed in my early years. What about all that I hadn’t seen in my life?

I’d determined that my longing for newness, for wonder, was not in finding something unexperienced, but rather unseen. Being on watch would mean something very different to me now, as I work to rediscover the joy I’d missed the first time around. Realizing that I would need to be mindful in these next steps on my journey, I enjoyed my granddaughter’s recent amazement at her space-oriented birthday gift. Upon learning we had sent her name “into space” through a NASA program prompted her imagination as she shared that the “aliens would now know her name”. I found my limited exposure to the wonders of the world had just been expanded and that my reinvigorated search for wonder had just begun.

One lone Santa…

This year, I took down the holiday decorations right after Christmas. This is unusual for me, as I revel in the coziness that is created by the festive trees and bows and glitter – even though all the presents have been opened and the cannisters of holiday treats are still out for all to enjoy. Fueled by my trente-sized coffee, I tackled this work, driven by an unseen force to clean the space, sweep the holiday aside, and move on to the new year. In a combination of zeal and precision and sadness, I was mentally saying goodbye to what was and preparing for the year to come.

There is a sadness to stripping my tall Christmas tree of all the beaded branches, bedazzled birds and shiny balls with their misshapen hooks. I normally go through a process of removing branches first, then fragile glass and crystal pieces, etc. until I have only the basic ornaments and ribbon left. The remaining ribbon, drooping and scattered around the base, having been pried off the top and pulled towards the bottom, rests in a mess I can wrangle as I attempt to roll it in a manageable spiral. As I tread in circles around the tree, I feel like the frustrated person banging their head against the wall….round and round I go – where I stop, no one knows. It mirrors my mood of the deflating balloon, and when the tree is completely empty, it is as lifeless as I feel.

This empty tree parallels my mood. Not more than a month or so ago, I fluffed and hung every bit of sparkle and ornamental memory of days gone by to display for all to see. The tiny lights added a glow to every moment, making me feel optimistic about my life and humbly grateful that year for what seemed like life worth living. In the glow of my evening tree, I would often whisper to the universe my grateful Thank Yous. Joy was truly in these moments. But now, the halls are no longer decked, and my twinkling reminders to be grateful are gone.

The emptiness between the bustle of Christmas and the ringing in of the New Year is often a time I feel lonely. Who gathers and where during this time can define one’s core family and home base. And those who turn to social media to connect with friends across the miles, this forum can often distort the nature of true friendship, teaching us that because someone sees the details of our life automatically creates a bond with them. It does not. What I have learned, in my midlife, is that friendship requires people reaching out to the other, across the divide, to be a part of each other’s lives, not just be a witness to it. During the holidays, when I make extra effort to strengthen my ties to those I hold dear, I lean too far to reach across this divide. And when I fall, I don’t feel brave, but defeated.

It was in this moment that my bare tree found me, only to share a message I needed to hear. In my melancholy self-reflection, I had found a lone Santa ornament, tucked away among the center branches. Hiding in plain sight, it had blended in with the brown and green twigs that had lost their shiny adornments. Unknowingly, I had regarded my work as done, my tree was bare, and my holiday over. What I found is that it was not necessary to shine a light on the spirit of the season. Finding him only reminded me that even when we cannot see what may be right in front of us, we are never truly alone.