Everything from beaches to boulders builds our existence

As March rolls onto my calendar, I question how it arrived at jet speed. For most of my life, I’ve heard March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. I don’t know if that’s true, but the word March gives me hope that spring is nearing. Visions of tulips dance in my head.

No matter the season, other visions dance in other heads. I have seven grandchildren, who range in age from 10 to 25, so I’ve had great examples of how thinking power changes over the years.

The ten- and twelve-year-old boys are beginning to realize the world does not revolve around them as it once did, and they aren’t thrilled about the shorter pedestal. They are into friends, sports, and boy things. Lucky for them, they live on a farm.

My twenty-year-old grandson focuses on basketball as he did when he was two. He has a pinpoint vision and clarity in what he wants. He has a goal, and it rules his choices.

My four beautiful granddaughters range in age from twenty to twenty-five. The oldest is married, bought a home, and expects a baby boy in August. Her thoughts include excitement, wonderment, and high ideals. The other three are in universities and enjoy life while they study and learn. They’re tired.

And then there’s me. I’m a combination of all my kids and grandkids. I fell off my pedestal years ago. I’m focused—even if it’s only on what day of the week it is. I still get excited and experience wow factors, and my once high ideals are now sweet or sour reality. I’m a forever student. Now, I see many options and sometimes refuse them all–I can’t decide.

I sit back and watch more often—sometimes, I ponder who I am. Where did Jennifer come from, and where is she going? I smile as I watch the stages of my grandkids because I remember being their age. I think about the people who have helped develop me along the way, and I have a true sense of peace when I evaluate my years and relationships. I know the courage and determination life requires and am grateful those traits run in my heritage.

I didn’t say I have no regrets. I could form a long list of unwise decisions, but I learned and wouldn’t trade anything for the lessons.

I guess we’re all the same—human. Nobody I know is perfect, especially myself, and, like it or not, life tosses us whatever we need to learn. So, back to my mantra: live while you live—let life happen, and remember that everything from beaches to boulders builds our existence.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.