There is a portion of our lives in which each breath, each sunrise; each day is filled with new beginnings. My brother and I were changing my oldest son a few weeks after his birth. We both looked down at this beautiful, healthy boy and remarked, “Look. No stretch marks!” His skin was untouched by life. Over the past weekend while doing errands and on my way to work out, I began to notice how many young parents were walking with their babies, young children taking their first strokes in the pool, soccer games, and teens holding hands and wondering if the other was thinking what they were thinking. Observing all of these beginnings, I realized how much I missed beginnings.
There are still beginnings in life but they come with a price. My son began a new job a few weeks ago. For him, this is a dream position. One that will utilize all his skills and talents within an exciting, growing environment. He took this job with history of beginning two previous jobs since graduation. We were discussing the culture in his new workplace. He shared that it was just what he was looking for; and, then he said, “But you have to be there for a few months to really understand the culture.” His new beginning was marred by his experience. Excitement was tempered by a reality that organizational orientation, vision, values are trumped by the culture that had been established.
Our family lost its matriarch a few months ago. Each birthday, holiday, Sunday dinner when we begin to drift back and think of her, my brother will say, “We are searching for our new reality.” The gymnastics meet that Grandma isn’t at, the school play without her cheering, the first day of the new job without a call before and within two minutes of ending to see how the day went is our new beginning. This beginning brings with it great sadness. This is a beginning that we knew would have to occur; it is a beginning that we don’t really know how to handle.
Experience, maturity, and knowledge are the gifts of age. When we are young, we strive to achieve these milestones. Once achieved, they are not as appealing and fulfilling as we hoped. My niece cannot understand why she can’t go to an “R” rated movie with her friends. In a few years she will be chomping at the bit to drive. Lately I choose to fly instead of drive so that I can relax, read, do email. Driving lost its excitement.
Beginnings are to be treasured. Fleeting in nature, a real beginning is filled with joy and fear. It is that mix of trepidation and wonderment that makes a beginning a beginning. Now, beginnings bring trepidation because you know what could occur. The wonderment is tepid. The experience viewed as just one more along a journey that eventually reaches its destination.
I miss beginnings.
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