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Saturday, February 4, 2017

forever young

My baby is going to be one in about a month.

The last baby.

The last new baby year.


And I have been feeling my years lately. Sore backs. Tired by 9pm. And I think. Wait a minute. I am going to have a ten year old. When I am Fifty. FIFTY. (I am seriously going to start working out with the image of backpacking camping trips with baby when he is 12 and we are 52 as my motivation. FIFTY TWO.)

That is in ten years. FIFTY. Staring at me IN THE FACE. You haven't done your dreams yet Sara. No book published. No successful non-profit. No coffee goat cocoa farm on the hillside of Hawaii. With yurts. Of course (Hawaii chocolate farming is the new farming endeavor. I AM IN, BUT COFFEE TOO. BUT ALSO CHOCOLATE.)

Yes so all that?

None of it.

What is wrong with you? And you are SO OLD. Commercials about planning for your retirement send me in a panic. College savings too. WHAT ARE WE DOING MESSING AROUND IN HAWAII???

And then.

And then.

I remember ten years ago. Baby boy on my knee. One day dada will be a lawyer. Mama will start a nonprofit. We will travel the world. What a day that will be.

And we are here. Trying. Doing.

The Try and The Do.

So overwhelming. So much trying and doing and trying and doing.

So today, I pulled out the huge box of Legos, kids all plugged in to their devices, and I started building a Lego treehouse. Just you know, free form. Master Builder that I am (winky face sarcasm there).

And the kids eventually join in. And we build. And we put on some Bob Dylan. And we dance, in that shuffling sort of Bob Dylan dancing that you do, hippie style. Baby is a natural at it. Just two days ago he started that head bobbing swaying baby dance thing. SWOON.

And the breeze blows in the windows. And this song comes on. And I think of my college friend who recently lost her brave battle against colon cancer. She was a mama to a wee girl. Never got to saw her learn to read a book, ride a bike, lose a tooth. And I wish this for her girl. And I think of my friend, how intentionally she lived her last year. Now free of pain. Forever young.

Gosh. How did Bob Dylan know this internal cry for our kids? This prayer for their lives? But it makes me think too. What am I doing, to stay young in my heart, hopeful, strong, singing my song, busy and swift and true and righteous? Am I keeping my heart, forever young?

May God bless and keep you always. May your wishes all come true.

May you always do for others and let others do for you.

May you grow up to be righteous. May you grow up to be true.

May you always BE COURAGEOUS. Stand upright and BE STRONG.

May your hands be busy, your feet be swift, your foundation strong when the winds shift.

May your heart ALWAYS be joyful. May your SONG ALWAYS BE SUNG.

May you be - in your life, in your tackling of the hard things, in the joyless seasons, in the joyful seasons, in the rough tough lovely brutal life ahead of you, day ahead of you, moment ahead of you  - may you be, forever young.

Forever Young
Bob Dylan
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay
Forever young
Forever young
Forever young
May you stay
Forever young
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
And may you stay
Forever young
Forever young
Forever young
May you stay
Forever young
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay
Forever young
Forever young
Forever young
May you stay
Forever young


  1. Oh this struck a chord! I've been having one of those "what happened to all my dreams" kind of a weeks, the ones where you happily ignore all of the wonderful achievements you have and wonder why my plans to write a novel currently sit at 6 pages of longhand and a longing for more time. In my case I'm certain it's brought on by a little work stress so I keep telling myself that this too will pass, and I'll get there one day, or not, and that too will be ok :)


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