The Examined Life

My birthday is Monday. I’ll be 55. Double nickel. The speed limit birthday. In my family, we have long generations, so my grandparents were in their late 60's and early 70's when I was born. And in a group of 40 first-cousins, I was toward the end of the pack. I was not around when any of my grandparents were age 55. My Kelley grandfather was almost 71 when I was born, and he lived 17 more years.

When my grandparents turned 55, the world was in turmoil. The United States was just recovering from World War I, and the Great Depression. Hitler was threatening Europe. Our country was about to plunge into another period of testing and sacrifice. Two of the seven Kelley kids, my mom and her brother Walt, joined the Navy. Three of the four Murphy kids were in the Army: Dorothy was a nurse, Jerry was a fighter pilot, and my dad was in the Corps of Engineers. I suspect that my grandparents had a good deal of anxiety when they were my age. Their knees were worn flat as they commended their children into God’s care.

I try to think of my parents at this age. They were born in the same year, so when they turned 55, I was a freshman in college, living at home. My younger brothers were still in high school; my sister was in college at St. Mary's in Leavenworth, Kansas. My brother John was on board the Oklahoma City off the coast of Viet Nam. My dad’s health and hearing were gone from years of hard work and hard living, and he was preparing to retire. Their marriage was on fragile ground, and there were no grandchildren in sight. Mother was caring for her own mother and three elderly aunts, while she struggled with the asthma that took her life before her 70th birthday. I’m sure she felt as if she was spinning off in a million directions with no rewards in sight. But within a few years, my dad retired, and his health issues were remarkably changed. "Us kids" were becoming actual adults, and they had two grandchildren. Life settled into an acceptable, happy, and yes, rewarding routine.

So, as I enter my 56th year I realize that my life is good. It’s easy, free from hardship. I get haircuts, have my eyebrows waxed, buy new jeans, and get the dog’s toenails clipped. My children are not fighting in the war, and although I am deeply concerned about said war, it is not challenging my very day-to-day survival. I worry more about my cholesterol and bone density. My biggest concern is for the souls of my children, and yet my knees could use some flattening. I worry about things like outliving our finances or our minds, or dying before we can use them to make a difference.

Even more than the beginning of a new year, my birthday is the time when I examine my life. I can see that this is the time to take a deep breath, to bask in health and provision, to get strong and prepare for the next phase of life. I don’t despise aging, I welcome it as an adventure. After all, what’s the alternative?