making mud pies at fifty

Earlier this year I hit the half-century mark and celebrated in full force with at least 50 friends. In fact, I'm sure there is more celebrating to do even though that was already three months ago. In the meantime, I've been beginning to get a grip on this new phase of my life...this phase called mid-life. It includes things like working with people who are young enough to be my children, wearing reading glasses from the drug store, always misplacing my dignity in some corner of my life and a nest that is always half empty and half full.

Among the humbling discoveries of this age is the realization that no matter how mature and grown-up I get, there is still a scared little girl inside me that needs a lap to crawl into and cry once in awhile. She's the precious and shadowy part of me that will never quite get over the fear of abandonment, or the fear of not being accepted. She's the one who is always reminding me that I might not be good enough or I might be too much. She's the one who paces the halls hoping that someone will call, that someone will remember that she's here, waiting. I've been rather frustrated to find out that after all of the progress i've made, I can't quite shed the existence of this sweet girl hiding in the shadows.

For reasons beyond my understanding, my shy little girl took up a holler this last week. She was lonely and scared and wanted attention. Finally, I took her to my Creator, my Comforter, my God. And God did a surprising thing. He sat down and played with her/me in the mud. They/we took all the tears and made mud. God didn't even once scold her for getting so dirty and crying so hard. We just played for hours, side by side, building walls and castles and later creatures out of the mud. Then, without even cleaning up, we went for walk. God took me out to look at flowers. The flowers sang and shouted and cheered as we walked by. How clever they felt to be noticed by the two of us. And gradually, I found myself relaxing and enjoying my time and my place in the world. Finally God said I could go get cleaned up and that I was loved, the little scared girl in me was loved.

I guess what I learned is that I need that little girl to remind me that I don't have to be perfect, that it's okay to be small and lonely and need a friend in the mud. I give out a lot and can nearly always find it in me to accept my friends' fears, quirks and imperfections but have not been as kind and as forgiving of my own. Rather I've been resentful that this scared little girl shows up once in awhile. Maybe it's time I let her know how much I appreciate her. Maybe it's time I give up looking for my dignity and just make mudpies out of the tears and dirt. Maybe it's time to let myself be...me.