Saturday, August 29, 2015

Life at 40

A photo posted by Alison Payne (@thisfoggyday) on
A winter rose (hellebore) that I bought as a sorry looking specimen on a "reduced to clear" table at a nursery that has suddenly shot up and flowered in my garden. 

 I like this article by Rory Shiner (and generally appreciate his writing style). So true. You live in hope of many things being part of your story, and then you hit 40 and realise you didn’t come anywhere close, or even begin, and now it’s too late. The things I most wanted to do and be in this life, the obvious things like a wife and a mother, once appeared as real possibilities. Now they look more like highly improbable miracles (it would be a miracle just to be asked on a date, given how difficult that has been in my life).

I’ve had one of those discouraging Saturdays spent entirely by myself, where you're tired enough that it's a struggle not to feel sad about it, but I like this paragraph:
It is striking in our youth-obsessed and potential-obsessed age to note how much of scripture is given over to enabling us to cope with the givenness of life, to name and make peace with the finite set of possibilities each life offers, and to come to terms with our actual circumstances as creatures before God. The psalmist teaches us to “number our days,” (Psalm 90:12) Isaiah reminds us that “all flesh is grass and all its beauty is like the flower of the field/ the grass withers and the flower fades ...” (Isaiah 42:6) and the apostle reminds the Corinthians that the situation in which we were called is a perfectly serviceable situation in which to live out our calling (1 Corinthians 7:17-24).
...
... Catharsis is better than denial, but better still is to learn to entrust our lives in all their mysterious givenness into the hands of God, who plots our lives, and who envelops our stories into the great Story of his love in Christ.
And so I will trust that this is how God meant it to be and go to work on my Sunday School lesson.

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