One of the many blessings attributed to a long life is the opportunity to gain valuable perspectives on youthful dreams. What once seemed like an awesome idea dims and dulls through the years. Sometimes once coveted goals become faint memories.

While I’ve not lived nearly as long as I hope to, this month marks a milestone birthday, 60. What’s most amazing is how quickly it arrived. I can remember in vivid detail happenings from my teens and 20’s and then it’s as though fast-forward was pushed, and instantly it’s decades later. Age is not a concern to me. I am the age I am, and regardless of fiber I eat or sweets I don’t or if I exercise, the number is the same. I’m grateful for 60 years, and hopeful for many more birthdays to celebrate.

Growing older was not something I gave a lot of thought to since time passes regardless. I’ve read articles about determining your “real” age as opposed to your chronological age. And I can remember my grandmother in her 60’s and my thinking she was old. It’s a matter of perspective. Who’s counting, comparing, and the age of the one deciding who’s old.

I was married three weeks before my 23rd birthday. It was always my dream to live in Chicago. It didn’t happen, and while I have no regrets, it’s interesting to revisit a dream from long ago. To celebrate our anniversary, my husband and I spent two days in Chicago. Downtown Chicago, where it’s all happening, or where I once believed it was. (Sometimes you find out it’s happening right where you are, if you know where to look.) The city is still vibrant, but the view is different for me. And along the way, I gained some insights about age, mine and others.

Amazing how many young women walk around in high heels. I felt older with every pair I saw. By afternoon’s end, when I was exhausted walking in my basic New Balance ties, I felt nearly obsolete. Ah, young heart, old feet.

A quick snack at an obviously popular coffee shop reminded me my concentration is limited. Many young people were sipping beverages, visiting with friends, and working on laptops. Multi-tasking, especially with something electronic, doesn’t work for me. Carrying around a laptop or a backpack also doesn’t work. Must be my age.

We stopped for lunch where we’d eaten when I was “younger.” The noise was over the top. We barely flipped open the menu and I knew food wouldn’t compensate for the roar. We left for quieter surroundings.

My dream city is toppling from its long-standing prominence. That can happen with dreams. They are great fantasies, but don’t always live up to expectations. The accumulation of wisdom and experience, afforded by the wondrous opportunity of growing older, puts a different slant on previous wishes and wants.

I’m still trying to make peace with body parts that sag, collagen that’s clumped rather than diffused advantageously, and my neck. If I peek in a mirror, the view’s tolerable. But look into the magnifying glass, essential now and again, and I’m shocked. I wonder when the terrain changed.

Gratitude seems the best response. I’m grateful to be here, trying to make a difference, however small. I’m grateful for the people in my life, for the love I receive, and the opportunity to love back, and the places I’ve seen. Sixty, such a blessing and what marvelous potential. Definitely where it’s all happening!

When the Creator was giving out directional ability, I apparently was not in line. Consequently, I missed out on even a smidgen of that quality allowing people to determine how to get from point A to point B without going through eight wrong ways. My brain does not comprehend instruction manuals explaining how to assemble, test for problems, hook up or reconfigure said item that is advertised as “assembly simple enough for a child.”

“It’s not easy being me,” I tell family and friends who just don’t get why I don’t get how to advance technologically. Or how to advance on the highways and byways of life. When I’m driving through unfamiliar territory, I’m clenching a paper with detailed directions. If a road is closed or there’s a detour, I start storming Heaven with requests for a sudden surge of smarts. I believe firmly prayers are answered, but God must be interested in showing me lots of scenery before I arrive at my destination.

As a positive thinker, I’ve learned to look for advantages of going through life with my directional dysfunction. There are few. I know more about adaptability than do gifted people. So I wanted to arrive at my destination in 35 minutes. Ah, what’s 20 more minutes here or there? So I was planning to use a newly purchased item today. Tomorrow will be just fine and will give me additional time to check with one of my consultants. A fancy name for a very handy husband and three gifted adult children. Guess which gene pool they inherited.)

I save lots of money because I don’t need the latest invention. I certainly don’t need all the bells and whistles on items I purchase. By the time I learn how to use a handy device, it’s nearly obsolete. I am not tempted to keep up with the Joneses or anyone else because they are out of my league. My claim to fame is I know how to program the VCR and I’m mighty proud of that accomplishment.

When I went to Bradley University as a non-traditional student, translated that means I was old enough to be a mother to most of my fellow students and some of the professors, I chose a writing class for one of my electives. Horror of horrors, we had to use a computer. In the beginning, if I made a mistake, I had to turn the computer off and begin again as I didn’t know how to correct errors. That was a long time ago and I’ve come an infinitely long way.

Such struggles do present unique opportunities. If someone wants to write directions in the most basic language, I’m an excellent test model. If I can comprehend them, they are universally understandable. I know about gratitude. If I arrive at an unfamiliar destination on time and minus heart palpitations, I’m so thankful.

Through the years I have complained vigorously about my lack of directional abilities. My complaining accomplished nothing. In the grand scheme of things, directional competency is not that important. On the bright side, I’ve learned about coping, alternatives, and laughing about mishaps. Those lessons continue to serve me well. And they require no complicated set of directions! Color me thankful!

She tells me why being a priority to people she loves is very important to her. We discuss how even among the busiest people, and isn’t everyone busy these days, it’s hoped they’ll find time to make us a priority in their lives. I love reflective conversations with my adult children. Sometimes I can still lead in a traditional parental role, and other times they are marvelous teachers, helping me sort out diverse perspectives and alternatives to enhance my life.

With one son and two daughters now in their ’30’s, it’s slightly easier to remain objective. I no longer feel the need to assume the “Mom” position. They share details of their lives with me, interesting discussions ensue, and I offer my thoughts without feeling responsible for outcomes. Probably now more than ever, I hope and pray for positive results. My children are adults with concerns typically more serious. But they are resourceful people and I trust their judgment. Still, everyone, regardless of age, education or street smarts, needs concerned family and friends for bouncing ideas around.

This idea of being a priority to others jostles my awareness. Do I treat the people most important to me as priorities or might they sometimes feel like I’ve merely worked them into my schedule? No one wants to be “worked in.” We want to matter, enough to know the calendar’s cleared and plans are made with great anticipation.

Children and canines excel at giving devoted attention to loved ones. Granted, they aren’t worried about finances or personal obligations, or even dinner preparations. They seem to know instinctively how to give their undivided attention and make it count. We can learn from them.

Busy, scheduled adults that we are, we’ve concluded our holiday obligations and delivered our Valentines, (such a charming day to remember people just because we want to and not because we have to. A perfect time for making loved ones a priority.) We’re likely still shoveling snow and slush, and now we’re hearing about Easter. Pastors and preachers often lament that worship is not always a priority to folks in their congregation. Some people base their church-going decision on feelings. “If I feel like going, I will. Otherwise, next week.” And next week turns into twice a year, if they feel like it.

We don’t want others to make time for us only if they feel like it or there’s nothing better to do. While we can’t know the mind of God, it’s likely God’s in agreement with us on this one. The people most important to us, like the activities we value, should rank first in our lives. If we don’t accomplish everything on our to do list, it’s okay because we’ve given our attention to the most important.

It’s often said that at life’s end what we’ll regret most are not the things we did, not even the mistakes we made, but what we didn’t do. Time moves rapidly, and always numerous details, some very worthwhile, are clamoring for our attention. In the final analysis, it’s people who matter the most. People, particularly those we love and who love us, are life’s priorities. The choice of how to spend our time is a personal decision, one that should cause us to really consider our priorities.

My first insights about love I learned from my mother. She patiently answered my inquiries, explaining in terms I could understand that love is multi-dimensional and that love for others can be equal but different. Even as a child I struggled with the “fairness for all” issue, asking if she loved me, my sister, or my dad more. I was hoping she loved me the most, but she always said, gently but firmly, that she loved us equally but differently.

Not exactly the answer I wanted, surely I was her favorite, but her explanation helped me understand her love was not a competition and she would always have love enough to share. Not everyone is blessed to learn life’s basics from such a caring teacher, although her wisdom did not always impress me.

She had a few one-liners that were annoying. “It’s only because I love you that I have to punish you.” The solution as I saw it was simple, love me a little less and we’ll both be spared some pain. Or “My punishing you hurts me more than you.” I wanted to yell, “Want to bet?” but even with limited worldly experience, I sensed that remark was not appropriate. And the all-time contradiction to a child, “I love you but I don’t like you!” Well, I didn’t like her either at those times so we were even! But I was the only one keeping score.

My parents were firm but fair, and I always knew they loved me. But not everyone had my best interests at heart. Or maybe they did initially, but young love is fickle and not necessarily fair. There was the bruised heart, the broken heart, and the knowing heart, knowing love was going to walk away without looking back. My friends and I consoled ourselves poetically, repeating as necessary, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved.” The words were more profound than our thoughts.

Along the way I learned mom was right, love has many dimensions. Sometimes it has little to do with feelings, sometimes feelings of infatuation are an obstacle, and sometimes love starts out as like and grows quietly over time. It can grow forever, as love isn’t designed for completion.

With the birth of each child, I learned love is never depleted, but not even love takes away fatigue or frustration. Love isn’t something to be measured, but my children tried their best to find ways to prove individual theories as to whom Mom loved the most. Sometimes the best love can do is show up each day and other times it comforts an ailing parent, soothes hurts among siblings, and remembers wedding vows long after the thrill is gone.

Genuine love, the enduring, real kind, doesn’t give up as time leaves its mark on appearances or challenges arise that were never part of the original plan. And love does mean having to say you’re sorry. Many times.

Love multiplies not divides and isn’t reserved for a chosen few. But it must be expressed, not just once, but many times. Three simple words, “I love you,” but they can change lives forever for those to whom they’re said and for those who say them and live what they mean.

January, new month, new year, new start! My kind of deal with one exception, the weather. After living in the Midwest my entire life, it’s reasonable to assume I’ve made peace with winter. I haven’t. But one of my annual resolutions is to maintain a positive attitude and quit grumbling about what does or doesn’t fall from the sky. Some years I do better with these character-building resolves than others. This year, I’ve picked up the pace. Like it or hate it, winter is the price we pay for the perks we enjoy such as lower cost of living, less traffic, and a greater sense of grassroots and familiarity in our neighborhoods. Healthy eating, healthy living are repeat resolutions. Having made some strides in the fight against fat, I hope to continue seeing less of me. It’s a slow process and exercise is never going to be my pastime of choice, but 45 to 60 minutes of time each day is a small price for improved health.

And then there’s organization, another January 1st resolution repeat.Yes, considerable progress is ongoing, but I’ve yet to master the less is more philosophy. Just before Christmas, I detail my “after the holidays plan” to my husband. He’s heard the story before, which might account for his glazed expression. Instead of encouraging me in my search for Organizational Nirvana, he tells me I have more papers in my possession than some small businesses. I am annoyed.

I remind him how I’ve shared the best years of my life with him, and so what if they came with a paper trail. It’s kept us from getting bored. Every day’s an adventure of remembering, “Now where did I put that?” Or “Have you seen?” followed by multiple choices. This year will be different. If I depart this earth suddenly, I don’t want to be embarrassed at my mess left behind nor do I wish to burden my loved ones with my stuff. They’ll just snicker and speculate about why I kept certain things. But if it’s organized, read neatly filed and labeled, they’ll be intrigued and exceedingly busy trying to determine the importance of my papers.

Contrary to the advice of the organizational gurus who say purge, then purchase, I’ve already secured storage tubs, file folders, filing cabinets, fancy folders, paper clips, rubber bands, and etc. I am good to go!

So when my friends and neighbors, who did not resolve to remain positive no matter how high the snow drifts, are suffering from cabin fever and the like, I will be busy categorizing, and reducing the stacks of paper, much to the surprise and pleasure of hubby dear and our children three.

If my life expectancy takes a fast turn for the worse, I’ll be prepared. If life continues as planned, I’ll be organized and able to produce documentation for the simplest query. The challenge is getting started and staying focused. I’m easily distracted, which might explain why I’m confronted with this paper back up in the first place.

Downsizing is my challenge and goal for ‘08. Fewer papers, less of me, cleaned off horizontal surfaces, and hopefully less winter weather. The last one is not within my realm of authority but the first three I can accomplish. To a Happy, Tidy New Year!

We’re in a huge home-improvement store where folks looking to improve or add on to a home find endless supplies and items. To the creative soul, such merchandise conjures up all sorts of imaginative floor plans. To the non-visionary, it’s not a very interesting place to visit. We’re simply tag-alongs, waiting for our shopping companions to finish. We walk up and down the aisles, while I chatter incessantly so she doesn’t get fussy. It’s not easy entertaining a 20-month old in a place where lumber and construction materials reign supreme.

It’s still weeks before the holiday season “officially” begins even though no one is quite sure any longer when it does begin. But in our trek throughout the store, we spot holiday decorations. There’s nothing lavish about them, but to her, they are an absolute wonder. She is enthralled over the bear that jumps up and down, the reindeer that sings, and the musical Christmas trees. Quite honestly it all looks somewhat tacky to me, but her eyes are less discriminating. She laughs loudly and repeatedly while customers smile broadly as they watch her.

The familiar refrain of seeing the wonder of Christmas through the eyes of a child runs through my mind. I’m grateful to be in this large store with my granddaughter, Lili, and to see, really see the absolute wonder and joy of the season. It’s certainly true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so is appreciation for what we perceive as lovely and attractive. To me the decorations are uneventful. To her, they represent what we strive for every Christmas season with our shopping and decorating.

A few weeks later, still a bit before “the season” is in full swing, I visit a large store’s toy department. I’m looking for accessories suitable for Lili and Emma, my older granddaughter by five weeks. They both like playing babies and they need bottles and dishes and blankets for their baby dolls. Shopping for them is pure pleasure. Their toys are affordable, no assembly required, and the kind that are familiar to grandmas. No batteries or directions are necessary. Just an imagination and creative role-playing can transform the simplest toys into a magic world of pretend. Besides, grandmas love buying dolls! I can remember playing with dolls and I remember buying them for my own daughters.

Gift buying and giving often present dilemmas each year. While I’m not convinced that Christmas presents should be only for children, I do believe that innocence and reduced expectations have a huge impact on the gift giver and recipient. Sometimes it seems as though we’ve veered far away from the original intent of giving gifts. They are meant to be given with generosity and thoughtfulness and received with appreciation and a similar measure of thoughtfulness. Anything less simply devalues the meaning of gift giving at Christmas and any time throughout the year.

Christmas with all its commercialism, religious significance, festivities, and certain frustrations is truly a celebration for the young at heart. It requires believing that the world can be transformed by goodness and love even when such a belief surpasses our understanding. And it invites us to share peace and good will generously with others not just at Christmas but throughout each day of the year.