too young and too old...

I am too old to be middle aged and too young to be old, an awkward developmental stage, teenager in reverse. It is an interesting, sometimes painful and funny way to live. Teenagers are bursting at the seams with all they think they know. So am I. Teenagers can’t wait to get out on their own so they can do it better, whatever "it" may be. I’ve been there, did some things better and some things worse, learned being on your own is harder than it looks. Teens can be preoccupied with their bodies and appearance. So can I. My bad ankle is giving way, my cute freckles have transformed into age spots and my body is settling towards the earth to which it will return. And like teens whose wisdom is often discounted because of their youth, I find my wisdom and experience discounted because of my age. I am not yet old enough to be revered for living a long time nor old enough to have my lapses in keeping up with the times fondly overlooked. It is not always a pleasant or warm fuzzy feeling to be my age. It is however, profoundly meaningful.
A friend and I were talking about the changes in our person as we age. Neither of us are as nice as we used to be. We spent years letting others’ opinions and thoughts and behavior glide over us as we laid low being nice. We raised children, taught Sunday School, served as deacons, decorated the church, cooked food for the sick, led Brownie Scout troops, ran car pools, attended numerous sports events and plays and recitals, did volunteer work, held part time jobs, cleaned houses, showed up for our family and our community, gracious and nice and pleasant and smiling. We were the unseen underbelly of family life, church life, community life, work life, that made the wheels of growth and progress run smoothly. There were no pay checks or retirement plans or health benefits for the job we did. Even though we were not able to have all the perks of a two career family, we were able to live comfortably on one income so we were freed to be the grace notes, the hard working grace notes for our families and communities. We are proud of that part of our lives. It was a busy, productive, meaningful time but it is over. Now we find ourselves full of wisdom, humor, perspective, patience and knowledge that is often devalued and under estimated.
And we don’t give a damn about being nice any more. Manners, paradoxically, are now more important because they provide a way for us to say and be who we really are, not camouflage ourselves. We are clearer about who we are, know where we have been and where we are going, see a little more of the big picture, able to shed the unnecessary trappings of what others perceive to be "important" for our own translation of life. And it is in our churches that we find ourselves most adrift.
My friend is in a church where she wishes the pastor would own his convictions about peace and justice more openly from the pulpit. I am in a church where I often feel the lack of spiritual depth because we spend so much time on peace and justice. We struggle to find solid rock on which to stand in our respective communities. We both yearn for a flexible, open community that can affirm all of who we are without feeling like we have failed the course in religious language and theology. What makes this funny is we have church communities that have been home for us in many ways from opposite ends of the spectrum but we are both seeking the same ground on which to stand, a hard to find balance between grace and works. We decided it has to do with our age.
Having lived long enough to see the failures of the Great Society and welfare and Social Security and government and the civil rights movement and the Peace Corps to provide peace and justice for all people, in spite of the best intentions of those who were workers in these programs, we find ourselves relying on God more and people less. We still work in programs and ministries designed to create change, provide service for those who are least among us, and do our best to be salt and light in a world that is short on both. But we no longer expect to be able to arrive at some perfect place where lions and lambs lie down together. That is God’s domain. We just try to keep them from eating each other alive in our here and now.
So here we are... undiscovered wise women on the road to Bethlehem to find the baby boy who has come to show us a new face of God, traveling under a star that leads us on our individual journeys, each of us coming home to God on the blue highways of life. It is enough. We are grateful for the journey and anticipate every turn in the road, knowing where we have been and where we are going. It is enough. We come from different hometowns, have made different stops along the way, travel in many different languages but we are all seeking the baby under the star, the one called the Son of God. It is enough. The road to Bethlehem is full of those who seek to find God, the company of joyful uncertainty, and it is more than enough. Thanks be to God. Peggy Hester