Things I Can Admit

Editor's Note:   This is post 800 for me.

So today I am waxing nostalgic, thinking back to the beginning of this blog and how blind I was to the roller coaster ride life would become as I wrote.

What I know today is that I am as pleased as punch that I've documented life, in all its imperfections, beauty and places in-between.  I'm glad I've torn off the mask of who you might have THOUGHT I was to show you who I really am. 

In that vein, I wrote this a few weeks ago and saved it.  At the time it brought forth some scary feelings, so I decided not to publish it.  But, today, as I hit the button so you can see what I wrote, I feel confident that I am presenting truth.  And there is absolutely nothing scary about that.

This is who I am, a work in progress, 800 posts since I started....
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I can admit that my Mom took one look at our current house and declared that it was too much to clean.  I can admit that I was mad at her for poo-pooing my adult decision to finally move.  More to the point, I can completely admit that she was absolutely, positively, beyond a shadow of a doubt, RIGHT.

I can admit that my Dad listened to my desire to go pre-law as an undergrad and told me that was a poor decision.  I can admit that I was furious that I didn't think he was being supportive.  Today, I can admit that he had more common sense than fifteen people combined on this point;  just because I liked to argue a point wouldn't have made me a good lawyer.  He was absolutely RIGHT.

I can admit that my brother probably has more sense than I do, even though I am older.  I can admit that, for all the trouble I got into in High School and college, I rarely was caught.  And I can admit that he was caught double the amount he deserved.  He may be a man of few words, but his actions prove that he is a man who knows right from wrong and isn't afraid to walk away from the latter.  Even if that latter, at some points in our lives, was sometimes his sister. 

I can admit that I have battled weight most of my life.  In times of happiness, I am smaller.  In times of weakness, sadness, guilt and the like I am bigger.  But, no matter what the scale says, I finally know that God loves me right where I am.  And, even if I don't like the person I see in the mirror, I am getting better in knowing that my size doesn't define, control, or stop me from being the person that God needs and wants me to be. 


The reason I can candidly admit these things is because I am 45.  Ten years ago I would have choked on these words.  Fifteen years ago I wouldn't have let the thoughts cross my mind.  Twenty years ago I was too stupid to even think much beyond the moment.


I honestly look forward to 50.  I'm not crazy about the wrinkles or the stretch marks or the chicken arms I've developed that have come with middle age, but I am happy to relax into the skin I'm in, as imperfect as it has become.

If the trade off for aging is gaining wisdom, I can admit I want to climb to the top of a very high mountain and scream "Bring it!" at life.

Care to join me? 

Cure yourself of the affliction of caring how you appear to others. Concern yourself only with how you appear before God, concern yourself only with the idea that God may have of you. --Miguel de Unamuno