It’s a Wonderful Life!


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. 


I’m at the stage of life in which retrospect takes on a different feeling, a different aura, if you will.

There have been so many launch-points in the course of my life. I’m not unique. We all experience the launches, but mine are unique to me.

My memories race through my launching into the world of learning. School was, for the most part, a joy to me. I don’t understand “hating” school.  It opened so many doors, and I’m thankful for all the good teachers I had from kindergarten through high school.  Sure, some of it was dull, some of it beyond my brain’s natural abilities and interests. But so much was enlightening, exciting, opening new doors of learning and possibilities.

College was  it’s own launch, with lots of bumpy rides through first loves, first failures, first coping with being on my own. Some courses I loved.  Others, not so much because the professors didn’t seem to love what-or whom-they taught.  But it did set my feet in a path I have never regretted.


Marriage, the biggest launch-point of all. A young man who’s very posture showed his character; whose honesty was refreshing, and whose faith was new and exciting to see. If we had known what the course of our lives would be, would we have hesitated?  I don’t think so.  The first baby, a matter of wonder indeed to my husband, who had very little experience with pregnant women or newborn babies. The second, third, and fourth. Each precious life given into our  keeping. Laughter, tears, hopes, disappointments, accomplishments; sickness, fear, relief and the humdrum of every-day life. How we loved them all, and still do.

Then their launches into adulthood, education, work, marriage, and babies of their own, and Terry and I were empty-nesters–and loving it.  New challenges, though, came in the guise of pain, accidents, older bodies beginning to wear out and create the necessity of recognizing we were no longer able to do what we had done only a few years earlier.

Now, he is 74 and I am 70.  Young old age, they say.  Sometimes I look at him and see his mom or his dad as they were when we last saw them. The facial lines, the posture,  the determination to keep on going in spite of pain and discomfort.  Then I look at myself and see both my own parents, and I can’t believe how quickly the years have passed. We’re the grandparents of nine, the oldest of whom will be 20 next month. Good grief, there may be GREATgrands in our near future!

The absolute that has always stayed the same through all the years, for me and then for Terry and me, has been our faith in the God Who created us, and Who has blessed our lives as we have done our best to serve Him.  Failures?  Sure.  We’re human. Forgiveness? Yes, and always hope for the future.

There’s one more launch ahead of us. One of us will be widowed one of these days, and that’s something I try to prepare for.  I know, however, that grief is a dark valley that neither of us will enjoy, but that will be yet another instrument of growth,  The knowledge that we both love God, that we will be reunited someday in heaven, is already a comfort.

Well, Terry just took off to cut 17 acres of grass down at our church, and in an hour I’ll be in my counseling office.  I have four people to see today.  Both of us still able and willing to work, to be of service, to reach out when and where we can to help others.

8 thoughts on “It’s a Wonderful Life!

  1. “The lines have fallen in pleasant places,” as David said.
    Some might point to kids growing up in the slums with absent or substance-addicted parents and say to you, “No wonder you had it good. You had every advantage!”
    But I believe life isn’t all just “the luck of the draw”; you’ve had divine blessings on your lives because of your own choices. And thankfully you’re able to give something back, through your work.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Christine, anyone who thinks I’ve had “all the advantages” wouldn’t know about the growing up years when a fresh apple was unheard of; when milk was rationed one small glass per meal; when we put cardboard in our shoes when the soles got holes in them; I could go on and on. Definitely not one who experienced all the advantages, but also not one to cry the poor mouth. I’ve worked hard, studied hard, and paid off my $50,000+ school loan because there were no scholarships or grants for a middle-aged white female whose husband was the major breadwinner. No free rides in my life. And please don’t misunderstand. I’m not complaining, and I didn’t take your comment in a negative way. You are right–God has blessed our lives because we have done our best to bless Him. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy, but then I don’t think hard work and perseverance ever hurt anyone 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Got it. Responded to it. And now I’m hoping you won’t think I took your comment awry–not at all. I just get tired about hearing so much about “white privilege” when my own experience has been that there were NO privileges extended to me when I decided to go back to school at age 50. Grew up poor. Learned to pinch every penny from my Depression-era parents. Not a free ride, not in any sense of the word.

      Oh dear. I went off again, didn’t I 😦

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s interesting to read more about your growing up years. You need to write a book!

        I would agree with you about that “white privilege” thing. I read a book written by a Metis woman and what she calls “white” I’d call middle-class. my own family didn’t live any better than hers. Like most people, I define “being privileged”—maybe too much—by what I’ve seen through my years. My definition doesn’t hinge on money or stuff, although economics definitely factor in.

        I feel anyone who grows up in a home with their two original parents and some amount of affection is already more privileged than half the kids in this country. And if the home is clean, no rats running at night, if they’re taught life skills and moral standards by a concerned and caring parent, that child is “floating in the cream” as far as privilege goes.

        I’m sure you’ll agree from your experience as a counselor that a child who doesn’t witness furious explosions of anger, violence, verbal abuse, and/or sexual abuse by a parent or sibling, and experience this periodically themselves, is very privileged.

        All of this has nothing to do with economics, color, culture, or even social class. My siblings may be white but they’ve been through all of the second part (most of them) and got only one of the first: for most of their childhood they had their original mom and dad. In many ways I was more privileged than they, growing up with my aunt and uncle. After I was married, I remember my youngest sister, age twelve, over at my place one night phoning the bars to see if she could locate her (our) mom. Lorraine has a speech impediment, too, and became—at least for a time— a prostitute and a heavy drinker.

        On the other hand, the children growing up in our middle-class (Mennonite) Christian homes today, as far as I can see, are among the most privileged on the planet. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. And then I think about all the kids who grow up in poverty in Appalachia, and whose background is often checkered with generational incest. In that context? Yes, I was privileged.And yes, my parents were both believers by the time I was old enough to understand about that. Again, growing up in a (very poor) Christian home, yes, I was privileged. But I don’t think that’s the kind of privilege the Left is talking about, is it 🙂


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