Walking into 50

*I wrote this a couple of days before my birthday…and naturally struggled with the technicalities of getting this blog up and running. So, here I am a few weeks later. That’s okay. The hat I’m wearing is a party favor from my friend Susan’s 50th birthday party 2 years ago. I may journey through this “born to be 50 tour” all year.

Happy birthday to me. Today I turn 50 years old. 

In 2011, on my 40th birthday, I sailed around the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, while working as staff on Semester at Sea. The ocean was fierce and seasickness roiled me the majority of the day. It was a small price to pay for adventure – we had just spent 6 incredible days in Cape Town where I vowed I would return in 10 years for my entire birthday month (obviously did not happen!) My fellow LLC (Living Learning Community) staff and kids surprised me with a cake and singing at the pool deck. 

Twenty years ago, turning 30, I celebrated at the Greek Cuisina in downtown Portland with my husband and dear family. As I was 5 months pregnant with my first child, there were no toasts with Ouzo, but we danced to a lively band and threw white plates to the floor to watch them shatter, which I guess is a tradition in Greece, or at least at that particular Greek restaurant. 

Back in 1991, I honestly do not remember my 20th birthday at the University of Redlands. But I can guarantee you it likely involved drinking red solo cups full of foamy beer with the Friend Lottery, amazing women I have the privilege to still be friends with to this day.

This new blog, On The Threshold, is my gift to myself. And to anyone who wants to read it and perhaps learn something, or feel something, or do something because of my words. Or not, and that’s okay. My spiritual journey has not been linear, and I suspect other people’s isn’t either.

On The Threshold has been percolating, deep inside me, for many years. Over the past 14 months, I started to gain clarity, and in the process, discovered a name for my restlessness. This clarity came from writing. The Artist’s Way, a book my beloved sister Molly, introduced me to, invited me on a journey of daily writing and reflective exercises that I committed to most mornings. 

When I opened to page 1, the pandemic was not even in the news yet (that I remember.) Little did I know what was in store, not only for myself, but for all of humanity. 

I chose the name On The Threshold because I want to explore the concept of liminal space. Liminal comes from the Latin root word, limen, which means threshold. Liminal space, put simply, is when the known is over and behind us, and the unknown is ahead of us, but we don’t know when *it* will begin, or who or what we’re becoming.

So we wait, hanging in liminal space. The challenge is not to be passive like we’re sitting in a waiting room, but instead do the work of introspection, shadowboxing, learning, unlearning, and growing. To get comfortable with mystery, which usually means being uncomfortable.

So here we are. Here I am. 50. The number carries heft, and honestly, the ramp up this winter was harder than the actual day. My birthday was an unforgettable day that spilled out into an entire week, filled with gatherings with friends and family (Zoom and masked in-person), time spent in nature, and dozens of heartfelt messages in texts, cards, gifts, phone calls, social media messages. Honestly, I’m still basking in the love light glow. God gifted me just what I needed as I lurch into the next decade of midlife.