“The 30’s will be my decade of spiritual growth!” I exclaimed (maybe bragged) raising my glass to guests at my 30th birthday party.
Master of my universe I would control the lessons to align with my perfect life married to my bestfriend and lover raising our four beautiful, healthy, happy children in our American passive solar country dream home.
The universe had other plans. Halfway through that fated decade, my husband was diagnosed with leukemia and our peaceful, perfect life imploded into an eight-year war with battles spanning the globe. I was 44 when we buried him. My children ranged in ages from 10 to 16.
My late husband left a legacy of unconditional love, fierce courage, gentle grace and powerful faith born of daily miracles on the battlefield. Much of that story unfolded in a series of letters known as The Miracle Update. (To be edited and released at a future date.)
That was then, and this is now as they say. And now is the life beyond – The Outback Edition.
My master of the universe attitude of my 30’s has morphed into a much more humble Tigger.
I’ve raised my children in a home where Death was a frequent dinner guest and a surprisingly wise companion.
The kids and I developed a wicked sense of humor and are aware all we have is now.
I quickly learned I was too naive to date and raise children at the same time. I became a bit too tough for my liking.
I discovered levels and layers of my faith that is full of hope and love, especially in a crisis.
A decade after becoming a single mom my last chickadee spread her wings and soared into adulthood.
The perfect opportunity to fulfill a life-long, inner-gypsy vision arrived with my empty nest.
I retired early, wrapped up my nonprofit consulting shop, downsized my home, and purchased the piece de resistance a shiny new teardrop trailer.
On a blazing hot August day, my dog and I hit the road with an open, grateful heart and permission to live my outdoor adventure dreams.
Daddy had four words to describe me: “She doesn’t bridle well.” He was right. Almost. I will gladly saddle up and go the distance – if it’s worth it.
My family is not only worth it, but the best thing I’ve ever experienced.
Today, with infinite gratitude, I let go of all the reins of that blessed young family ride.
My only goal in this outback adventure is to freely follow the quiet, still inner voice that directed me through it all in good times and bad.
But now I won’t be in hospitals, cancer centers, and PTA meetings.
Now I’ve hitched up a nuCamp Outback Teardrop Trailer to a Subaru Outback pulling me to the “boondocking” outback where I live my eclectic, outback version of spirituality.
Twenty-five years after my birthday toast I once again raise my glass and offer the only prayer I’ll ever need: “Thank you.”