There I was, at the checkout at the grocery.
I'm often one for chatting with the cashier, or anyone else in line for that matter. I always thought it was funny growing up how my mom could strike up a conversation with just about anybody, regardless of their differences or the amount of time they would see each other. Five minutes in a grocery line and she could be talking to someone about their Thanksgiving traditions and where their grandma lives. I didn't understand it then, but I do now that I've become like her. We talk to people because human connections are what we live for, and they make us feel glowy and warm and hopeful inside.
Anyhow, I was talking with the cashier, and he observed the diapers I was purchasing. "Do you have kids?" He asked. I responded that I was expecting my first, a boy, and was due in just a few months. I was buying the diapers in an effort to prepare while we anticipated his arrival. He responded and told me he and his wife had an infant daughter. We congratulated each other and talked a bit about baby things. I was picking up my last bag of groceries as we finished talking, and an elderly woman who I hadn't noticed before gently said to me from her place behind me in line, "Your life has just begun."
I was surprised. I hadn't seen her, I hadn't talked with her, and to be honest I had no notion that she had been present or eavesdropping until she'd made her quiet comment at the end.
Truthfully, I was confused by her statement. My life just begun? I rolled the phrase around again and again in my mind. Most of my life I had looked forward to college and marriage, and beyond that I honestly hadn't given my future much thought. School seemed like an eternal trek, and life without it was beyond my understanding. I had just graduated the December before, and my new roles as a teacher and as a soon-to-be mother was overwhelming and fresh. Sometimes I felt slightly depressed that my life as a full-time student was behind me.
After mulling about it in the back of my mind for a while, I switched perspectives to think about her statement from her side. The kindly woman looked to be in her late eighties... what had she seen in me as a 25-year-old?
It seems simple and obvious in hindsight, but the simplest of ideas hit me with sudden enlightenment. I'm still quite young. I have children to raise, grandchildren to come, homes yet to buy or build, books yet to read, hikes yet to climb, people still to help, growth and pain to be had, vacations to Disneyland yet to take, evenings under my roof and at my hearth with loved ones and friends yet to come in my life. Sure, I was no longer a full-time student. But the other roles that I'm living and have yet to live suddenly excited me.
I'm grateful for that grandmother, that stranger, who opened my eyes and helped me to realize that no matter my age, there's good times ahead, and I have reason to be excited about it.
The same goes for you, whether you're 7 or 77. There's good that God will yet bless you with. Your life has just begun.
I'm often one for chatting with the cashier, or anyone else in line for that matter. I always thought it was funny growing up how my mom could strike up a conversation with just about anybody, regardless of their differences or the amount of time they would see each other. Five minutes in a grocery line and she could be talking to someone about their Thanksgiving traditions and where their grandma lives. I didn't understand it then, but I do now that I've become like her. We talk to people because human connections are what we live for, and they make us feel glowy and warm and hopeful inside.
Anyhow, I was talking with the cashier, and he observed the diapers I was purchasing. "Do you have kids?" He asked. I responded that I was expecting my first, a boy, and was due in just a few months. I was buying the diapers in an effort to prepare while we anticipated his arrival. He responded and told me he and his wife had an infant daughter. We congratulated each other and talked a bit about baby things. I was picking up my last bag of groceries as we finished talking, and an elderly woman who I hadn't noticed before gently said to me from her place behind me in line, "Your life has just begun."
I was surprised. I hadn't seen her, I hadn't talked with her, and to be honest I had no notion that she had been present or eavesdropping until she'd made her quiet comment at the end.
Truthfully, I was confused by her statement. My life just begun? I rolled the phrase around again and again in my mind. Most of my life I had looked forward to college and marriage, and beyond that I honestly hadn't given my future much thought. School seemed like an eternal trek, and life without it was beyond my understanding. I had just graduated the December before, and my new roles as a teacher and as a soon-to-be mother was overwhelming and fresh. Sometimes I felt slightly depressed that my life as a full-time student was behind me.
After mulling about it in the back of my mind for a while, I switched perspectives to think about her statement from her side. The kindly woman looked to be in her late eighties... what had she seen in me as a 25-year-old?
It seems simple and obvious in hindsight, but the simplest of ideas hit me with sudden enlightenment. I'm still quite young. I have children to raise, grandchildren to come, homes yet to buy or build, books yet to read, hikes yet to climb, people still to help, growth and pain to be had, vacations to Disneyland yet to take, evenings under my roof and at my hearth with loved ones and friends yet to come in my life. Sure, I was no longer a full-time student. But the other roles that I'm living and have yet to live suddenly excited me.
I'm grateful for that grandmother, that stranger, who opened my eyes and helped me to realize that no matter my age, there's good times ahead, and I have reason to be excited about it.
The same goes for you, whether you're 7 or 77. There's good that God will yet bless you with. Your life has just begun.
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