50 years old

In a few days I will be 50; just another day in my life, yet it causes me to stop and ponder. Not that the number means that much, yet it is quite odd to me to think that I have been on this earth for 50 full years–a half a century. I have more than likely lived more than half my life.
I still giggle like a child at times, and I thoroughly enjoy an icecream cone, or snow angels, but I can’t claim to be a child anylonger. I am old enough to “remember when.” I have certainly grown up.
Is 50 old? No, I don’t think so. But it isn’t young either. I look with anticipation at the years to come, but I am aware that they aren’t like the ones that have gone by. There was a time when I looked forward to the “firsts” of youth: high school graduation, college graduation, falling in love, finding a mate for life, wedding, childbearing years, decisions concerning a possible budding career. Spring was full of hope and excitement. God granted me all those things and my life has been rich.
My hopes and dreams are different now. Fall feels warm on the skin, and you get to hope for the fullness of harvest. I long for the fullness of God’s will realized in my everyday life, I am learning to seek peace and contentment in the challenges of my days. My thrill is to know God is pleased with me, and to have a sense of His blessing over me. My joys are simple these days: a quiet evening with my husband, a garden full of produce, a friend comforted, an afternoon shared with a grilfriend. “Thrills” are different than they used to be. It’s not better or less, just totally different, like fall is to spring. Same sun, but different feel. I am ok with that. Time marches on, and so do I.

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