Embracing everything

Or at least, trying to

It was Doug’s birthday this week; his seventy-third. We had a lovely day.

It began with coffee as we looked out our condo windows and watched a half-submerged beaver pull a large branch upriver. Mid-morning, we went for haircuts together, and both came out feeling our most attractive selves, Doug especially so, having received a hug from his young stylist, Lilith.

Then we picked up our two-year-old grandson from nursery school to bring him to our place for lunch and a nap. In the car on the way back to our condo, Harrison, with minimal coaching, wished his Baba “Happy Birthday,” before pointing out “a digger!” and “a crane!” and “the sky—so blue!”

Later, we three walked to our five-year-old grandson Davy’s school for hugs and hellos and to deliver Harrison into the arms of his dad. (“I love you, Baba!” said Davy unprompted when he came outside onto the playground after the final day’s bell.) Being in proximity to our grandsons, visiting with them regularly, really knowing them, is not just a help to their parents; it gives joy, purpose, shape, and energy to our weeks, for which we are both grateful.

Doug received calls and messages from friends and family throughout the day, from early in the morning until late at night. For dinner, we both dressed up—Doug looking handsome in a new pair of tan jeans and a navy button-down I gave him for his birthday—and then walked hand in hand, crunching through piles of fallen yellow leaves along the sidewalks to a lovely little neighbourhood restaurant that is one of my husband’s favourites.

His last call of the day came late in the evening, from my 93-year-old mom, who I suspected had sacrificially gotten herself out of bed to look up and dial his number to wish him “Happy Birthday!” and to give him her love.

Photo by Jason Leung, Unsplash.

A good age

Seventy-three is a good age. I know that my husband is blessed to have lived and seen so many years, more years than many people get. I’ve known and loved more than a few who were not so fortunate.

The fact that his days continue to be filled with so much goodness is cause for gratitude and joy. Yet on special occasions such as these, my mind can’t help but cast forward. “I wonder where we will be this time next year?”

As his birthday approached, Doug, too, was wondering about the future; he started talking about death to the extent that his now severely limited vocabulary allows him to talk about anything.

“I wonder how long before I go down, down, down,” he mused more than once during the past couple of weeks, gesturing with his hand downward before raising it for a slicing motion across his neck.

“None of us knows how long we have, hon,” I said each time in response. “Any of us could get hit by a bus today. That’s why we need to try to make the most of every moment we are given.”

Or, “How old was my dad when he died?” he asked me repeatedly.

“Seventy-five.”

“I guess that’s when I will, too.”

The death talk definitely ramped up in the wake of losing his driving privileges, which happened days after losing his welder. Not that he has driven all that much since we moved to Winnipeg just over two years ago. I think it was more that he liked the idea of being able to drive than actually driving. He prided himself on being a good driver throughout his adult life, and hearing our doctor tell him that he failed to complete the in-office assessment in the allotted time was a blow to his self-image.

Of joy and tragedy

“Life is joyous and life is tragic,” observes Mary Pipher in Women Rowing North, and truer words have seldom been written. “The Cape of Good Hope and the Cape of Storms are literally and figuratively the same place,” she adds.

Pipher’s words came as a gift to me from a friend for my own birthday almost five years ago. My sixtieth arrived in the midst of pandemic lockdowns. I wanted a celebration, but knew in my heart—even back then—that planning anything was beyond Doug’s ability, though I didn’t understand why. Hosting an online “open house” seemed like a fun and easy thing to do. So I invited people to celebrate with me by signing onto Zoom and sharing some favourite words in the form of a quotation or two.

In the Pipher excerpt, the writer encourages her readers to “embrace everything” as they “sense how big life is—how intense, joyful, painful, complicated, and beautiful our lives can be.”

Doing so “can be our rescue,” she promises, as we encounter the hard things that come as an inevitable part of aging.

When life feels hard, when circumstances are heavy, it’s easy to feel like we’re struggling just to keep our heads above water, isn’t it? It’s easy to turn our attentions to all that’s wrong to the exclusion of all that’s right.

But choosing to embrace everything—even the small things—can be our flotation device, because in stopping to notice the small things in the midst of all the big, hard things, we will see the good. And there is always, always good.

Recognizing it leads to gratitude. And gratitude can turn our hearts away from our pain, back to the One who is the Creator of all good things.

Embracing everything

Tonight, our family will gather to celebrate Doug’s birthday. Our grandsons will race through our condo door, shouting “Helloooooo!!!” and kicking off their shoes in their excitement. The adults will laugh, visit, and catch up on all the days since we were last together, a little over a week ago.

Then we will all gather around our table, made extra long with three leaves added in. I will pray, thanking God for my husband’s 73 years and asking Him to bless whatever years Doug has left. Davy will probably ask to sing his “Baby Shark” grace, and we braver ones will join in.

Thank you, God, do do do do do do!

Thank you, God, do do do do do do!

Thank you, God, do do do do do do!

For our food!

You are good, do do do do do do!

You are good, do do do do do do!

You are good, do do do do do do!

All the time!

Let’s dig in, do do do do do do!

Let’s dig in, do do do do do do!

Let’s dig in, do do do do do do!

Amen.

At the end of our meal, we will sing again, this time, the “Happy Birthday” song. And Doug will blow out his candles on the lemon cheesecake I have made, especially for the occasion.