Fifty

"Forty is the old age of youth. Fifty is the youth of old age!" Viktor Hugo

Turning fifty can make a girl look in the mirror and examine what exactly went right and wrong over the years. The wrinkles, the age spots, the double chin and the tired eyes all speak to a few things gone awry. And yet I looked in the mirror that day and felt like everything had gone just right. Fifty years of happy is what I felt. Not that those wrinkles weren't earned with very hard days, the tired eyes earned through sleepless nights, and the age spots appeared with some extra exposure to things I would rather not have been exposed to (nevermind the double chin, it was acquired through all good things) but it all felt so happy on day 18,250. 

And we celebrated in a big way. 

And I felt so much love.

Stephen. 

My babies. 

My grandbabies. 

It wasn't just that we were all gathered together.

It wasn't just that some of them traveled over 2000 miles to be there.

It wasn't just that we were at the beach.

It wasn't just that Stephen and the kids made me feel like those 50 years mattered and were meaningful.

It wasn't just that we had twelve little angels running around in pure delight.

It wasn't just because we had delicious food and ice cream to boot.

It wasn't just because the sun peaked out over and over on an otherwise rainy weekend.

It wasn't just because the sunsets were perfection.

It was actually because I could look around and see the hand of God in my life for the past 50 years. And it felt so so good! And with that type of track record I could look forward with confidence that the same hand will guide me for the next 50.

And so we celebrated!

the way 50 year olds celebrate!