Milestones

Today is sort of a big day. You see, I just marked the one year anniversary since I started this blog. Today I am making my fiftieth post, and it is also the six-month anniversary of my mother-in-law's passing. Important milestones, one and all, and each significant in their own ways. The fact that I have been able to sustain doing this blog for a whole year is big, because I usually am a strong starter, but not so strong when it comes to keeping things up. Maintaining, for me, is a dirty word. And, making fifty posts in one year means that I averaged almost one a week. (Not that I actually achieved my goal of posting once a week consistently, but at least I have hope that it might be possible in the coming year - at least in quantity, if not in timing.) And, I often hear people speak about how hard the first year without someone else  is- all the 'firsts' you experience. It's hard to believe, but we're at least halfway done with those difficult firsts without my beloved mother-in-law. My, how time flies.

Of course, it's easy to notice big milestones and use them to take stock of where you've been and where you are. But, if we're really honest with ourselves, there are plenty of other important roadsigns all around us besides just the milestones. Today was the first time I'd ever ridden in a combine. A few nights ago was the second time I'd ever slept out under the stars. Tonight will be the third time I've ever cooked a venison roast. A few moments ago I reminded my youngest daughter to say, "please" for the fifth time today. And on, and on, and on it goes.

Those things may not be anything worth getting out the video camera for. Hallmark doesn't make a card for them, and I've never yet seen anyone bake a cake to mark those occasions. But, I think it's fair to say that the things I am doing for the sixth or thirtieth or hundredth time are equally as indicative of the importance of my life's journey (indeed - perhaps more so) than the big 'firsts' that are so much more celebrated, but perhaps not really as significant. The fact that my three-year-old points out the moon to me each and every night is no less endearing now than it was the first time. Isn't the comfort of a nightly bedtime story better than the excitement of the first? A thousand humble meals eaten with loved ones much more rich than one tremendous feast eaten alone? The hurried hugs and stolen kisses from my life-long sweetheart so much more passionate and filled with love now than our dizzying first kiss could ever have been?

I remember the first time I became aware of the fact that a birthday celebration is actually marking the end of an era more than the beginning of one. On your first birthday, you turn one year old, but you've already lived a whole year. The vanity of women who want to hold on to their claim of being 29 becomes doubly ridiculous when you consider that a 29th birthday really marks the beginning of a person's descent into their third decade, and not the last year in a person's delightful and tumultuous second decade of life. Likewise, other special events - be they first communions, graduations, wedding ceremonies - they are a momentary marker of an event that signifies the end of something more often than the beginning. These big milestones we celebrate, in truth, are a way of looking back at what has been - the miles we've already covered - and hoping that things will go well for us on the road ahead. Perhaps mile markers aren't really all that helpful after all.

The earthly destinations I am ultimately headed for are still a mystery to me. I don't know how long my journey will be or where it will take me. Therefore, knowing that I've passed a certain number of miles - or events, or activities, or special days - really isn't nearly as important as knowing that I'm still on the right road, or how fast I should be going, or when there is likely to be a curve ahead. For those things, I must learn to focus on the other roadsigns on the path.  The tenth spontaneous snuggle from my six-year-old this week? Yep, I'm still on the right road. A liltingly-spoken request from my three-year-old (coupled with two dark brown eyes looking up at me with utter trust and love) for one more story? Yes, I really do need to slow down and enjoy the ride. Philosophical questions that I still struggle with myself being asked of me by my beautiful, blossoming ten-year-old? Watch out - the road is about to get curvy.  But, it's ok. I may not be able to see what's ahead, but I'm going to remember to focus on more than just the milestones we've passed and see the truly important signs of a life well lived instead.