Dreaming Paris

Those who have been following my blogging history will recall the name from my title. I was born on a Tuesday, and according to the poem, "Tuesday's child is full of grace." I learned that poem when I was very young, and it was a source of amusement to me that I was never a very graceful person. I trip, I spill, I run into things. When I delved deeper into Christian things, I understood grace differently and that line became more meaningful to me. It's silly to allow things that have nothing to do with one at all to become part of one's framework for developing one's character but that's how it is with me. I held grace closely, it was mine, part of who I was because I identified with the Tuesday's child of the poem.

My name means a pledge, so loyalty, too, defined me. Whatever else I am, or am not, I remain loyal to the people I love. That's different in my way of thinking than being faithful. A faithful person is the kind who can maintain all the details and niceties of a relationship. They call you up, they remember your birthday, they develop the relationship, they're mindful of hurting your feelings. I'm afraid that I'm not that person. I can do those things, but they'll come out of the blue after a long time of nothing because I'll be thinking of you and want to do something nice because I DO love you. I'm not good at the faithfulness of relationships. But I am loyal in the sense that I will always love you. If you call on me, I'll be right there. If someone disses you, I'll defend you. If you get down on yourself I'll do what I can to lift you up. All because I discovered when I was young that my name means a pledge, so I feel that if I've given my friendship or my love, you should be able to count on that as you would someone's word of honor.

Silly, isn't it, these notions that we take into our heads? I know that I've let people down along the way, even the ones most dear to me. So maybe they don't see me as I see me. As I get older, though, I'm finding it (somewhat) easier to see myself as I really am, though I still want to hold on to those romantic notions of myself. And as I see myself as I really am, I'm learning to accept me as well, to live according to what I am, not as what I want to be. I don't always succeed. And sometimes I get confused. But I have to say that I like being in my 50s much better than I thought I would. I feel a freedom I didn't used to feel. The age isn't a problem to me. My body is, though.

When I was younger I had this notion that I would be someone who would grow old gracefully. I liked the idea of that. Ha! As I felt age overtaking me I started fighting it tooth and nail, but it can't be beat, only camouflaged somewhat with dyes and creams.

I got here too fast. And I barely get a chance to get used to one change before another takes place, and unlike in our teen years, these aren't pleasant changes at all. I still wish I could be someone who could age gracefully, with calm and wisdom, that I could move into this new phase of life with confidence and a chuckle at how seriously I took it all.

Even so, I like where I am. I may whine about the physical things taking place in my body, but this is a good time of my life, quite like no other. It has its ups and downs, its confusions and disappointments, but I'm living it like I've never lived before, more fully, more openly, more as myself rather than as someone I thought I was supposed to be. It would be nice, though, if I could have brought my 20 year old body with me to do the living in.

Note: This was originally started as a comment to a blog post by Father Luke, but as it got longer I decided to develop it further and turn it into a blog post of my own.