Do you ever find yourself wondering: does life get easier? Waiting for a child to be potty trained, a teenager to act less like a teenager, a rough patch in your marriage, in your friendship, to iron itself out? Listen carefully to the conversations around you and you will quickly hear so many people hoping, waiting for life to get easier. I wrote a post to that woman waiting because she is me.
I sat directly across from her as we played catch up on the last year since we had seen each other. Time had not been kind to her and she was honest in her assessment of the past 12 months. Health challenges had her laid up for part of the year. Doctor’s appointments after injuries seemed endless. There was another surgery and it was more invasive than she signed up for, pervading her heart, her spirit, her mind, as much as it did her body.
You’ve been there, right? Speed bumps that are much larger than you had thought. The whole car suddenly jolts.
Compounding, it had all depressed her in so many ways. She was bearing the weight, physically, mentally, spiritually, a constant reminder of a tough year.
But she was hopeful.
In 9 short months, she would be retiring. Full-time employment was taxing at her age and she was excited for the future. Life was finally about to get easier. That weight she had been wanting to lose for a year? She would finally lose it. Her health, her focus, peace was on its way in a little less than a year.
She was waiting.
Her words were familiar to me. Nearly half her age, I have not struggled much with health challenges, but her waiting, her hope just around the corner, an easier life a little less than a year ahead, it was so very familiar.
I have waited through long pregnancies and ones that didn’t turn out as I had hoped.
Waited for the terrible twos to pass, the terrible threes as well.
I have waited for one to be out of diapers. And another. And another…
I have waited for them all to buckle themselves in. Because easier would finally arrive.
It’s tantalizing to think ahead about how easy it may all become. For as much hope as I have bottled in that jar, you would think my life would be a vacation by now.
Yours too?
But somehow, it’s not. Parenting a 12-year-old comes with challenges as does a 9, 7, and 5 year old. Being 37 is tough somedays. We have bills and deadlines. There are things that scare me and questions I don’t have answers to. There are troubles I am trying to avoid here and worries I’m trying to conquer.
In this land of easier, I’m suddenly awaiting a new easier just down the road.
Do you see where I’m headed here?
I have no intention of shooting down our balloons, filled with the helium of hope, but what if we are all waiting for something that isn’t even real, isn’t even true?
That woman waiting on retirement might crash into more health challenges next month. She might struggle with identity after she leaves the workforce or be overwhelmed by opportunities to serve her church and community. She may be lonely or distracted and there is a good chance that she will need to find her footing, readjust when she steps into the world of retirement.
I don’t mean to be a raincloud on the adventure ahead of her. I’m sure there will be good there and some parts may indeed be easier, but if time has taught me anything, it is that every single age comes with its own set of hard, its own challenges.
Good, but different. Not necessarily easier.
