I recently turned 50. It happened. It finally happened. And I am not sure how I feel about it,not that it makes any difference. It’s not as if I could stop it or turn back the clock. I’ve known for most my life that it was coming and it did. No parade, no fireworks, no memorial. The page on the calendar just changed and I was 50. I don’t feel any different, I don’t look any different, but somehow everything has changed. I am a 50 year old woman.I have outlived my mother. I’m no longer a young woman but I’m not yet a senior citizen either. I’m stuck in that place, somewhere in between. I don’t have toddlers anymore but I don’t have an empty nest quite yet either. And I can’t figure out what comes next. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not really one of “those” women, who are hung up on getting old. I believe aging gracefully can be something very beautiful. But I am a little afraid. Of the future. Of poor health. Of dying. My father once said he “wasn’t afraid of being dead, just of dying” and I get that. I’m afraid of dying and turning 50 has deepened that fear. I’m 50 now. Did I mention that? More than half my life is over. Probably a lot more than half my life is over. Where is the stop button? I want off this merry go round. I want a different ride. I want to put on the brakes.I want to start over. I want to turn back time and do almost everything over, differently. I want to be thin and healthy. I want to be soft spoken and graceful. I want to be the Godly woman I was meant to be when I was created. I want to have been married to my husband since high school. I want to have no regrets. I want to be able to say I did everything “right”.  I want my children to worship and respect me and be grateful for the wonderful way I raised them, always selflessly and wisely. I want to have been in the same career for the same employer my entire life. I want to be able to hold my husband’s hand and reminisce about the life we’ve built together since high school. I want my life to be an open book for all to read, knowing it is above reproach.

     But we don’t always get what we want. We get what God wants for us. Better still, what we really get is exactly what we choose for ourselves. And since I didn’t choose to believe in God’s love until I was in my 40’s, I didn’t choose very good things sometimes. 
     Here’s what I know about being 50. I have children. I have grandchildren. I have aging parents and in laws. I have lost people that I loved. I have 50 years of memories and experiences to treasure.  And I have wrinkles. I have pain. And I am tired. And I feel as if I am running out of time. I have to make the rest of my years count. I have to fix what isn’t right and I have to maintain what is. I have to eat better and sleep more. I have to lose weight and exercize more. I have to love more and complain less. And I have to hurry because I am 50 and I have lived more than half my life already. Maybe I am hung up on getting old. Maybe I am one of “those” women.