Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

calling

Why we can’t all be stars {Be Who You Are, part 1}

A few weeks ago we took our kids to see the newest Star Wars movie. It’s only been since last summer that they’ve caught up on the originals (Parts 4,5, and 6) and last fall when they saw The Force Awakens. Like many kids their age, they love the characters and stories and have started collecting memorabilia. (Our son got a Lego Millennium Falcon for his last birthday. He’s 8.)

So, on a recent night when I was losing my cool because of all the video games winter has forced us to play, the two of them and I took to the couch for a coloring session. Music often helps to calm us so we chose a John Williams station on Amazon music. We heard not only our favorite theme music from Star Wars but all the other masterpieces Williams has created. (The list is longer than I could have told you before that night.)

Photo by Isaac Ibbott on Unsplash

We got to talking about the music and how it adds to the movie experience. I asked them how the Imperial March made them feel when they heard it. How different would it be, I asked, if when Darth Vader marches on screen the music was more like a circus theme. They laughed and laughed.

John Williams is a talented composer, and I know that he gets a lot of credit for his work. But I wonder how many people who have watched the movies featuring his scores fully appreciate his contributions. I mean, what would Superman or Indiana Jones be without their recognizable theme songs?

In some cases, I feel like the answer might be “nothing.” The music adds a layer of depth taking an interesting character and making him (or her) unforgettable.

 

—

My new job is a supporting role. I’m not a teacher. I’m an aide. My official title has a fancier name, but my day-in, day-out duties are assisting someone who has more knowledge, experience and credentials than I do.

Ten years ago, that might have bothered me, but I feel exactly the opposite. I have never felt more perfectly suited for a job in all my years of work. (I have come to realize that my writing is more art/calling than job, but that’s a post for another day.) I show up. I help where I’m needed. I go home satisfied because my presence mattered in a real and tangible way. (Some days, it feels more intangible, but that’s rare.)

In the world where most of us live (I was going to say “real world” but Hollywood is part of the real world and acting is a viable way to make a living if that is your gift and talent), there aren’t a lot of prizes for a job well done. There’s little recognition for a supporting role in life. No one is going to hand me a trophy for showing up to work every day and giving it my best effort and maybe making a difference in someone’s life.

But the truth is I don’t need a trophy. Because I’m doing exactly what I need to be doing with my life.

Photo by Ariel Lustre on Unsplash

I wouldn’t make it past the audition round of American Idol and I would fall flat on my face in the meantime. Even if by some miracle I was cast in some kind of TV show or movie, I would be miserable. I don’t like people looking at me all the time and I’m definitely not a performer. (Unless I feel really comfortable with you and can crack a bunch of terrible jokes in succession. Or if I’m telling a really interesting story.)

I couldn’t work in the medical field because I don’t like bodily fluids and I have an overactive gag reflex. Even my job as a journalist, which I worked for almost 10 years, was a not-quite-right fit. I am less detail-oriented than I would like to think, and I often missed asking the obvious questions.

One month into my new job and I feel more “accomplished” than I did in 10 years of journalism. But then again, I don’t think I could have done this job all those years ago. I needed more time to figure out who I was than who I thought I wanted to be.

—

It’s awards season. The TV channels are full of Oscars and Globes and Emmys and Grammys, and I am always six steps behind what’s new and popular, but I have a casual interest in these things. There are recognitions for all kinds of behind-the-scenes contributions, some we never even hear about. And because we focus so much on the stars–the leading actors and actresses, especially, the awards for supporting roles sometimes feel like a lesser prize.

(Am I alone in thinking this?)

I wonder what kind of message we send to kids of this generation when we spend so much time adoring the stars–in movies, sports and music. Why can’t being good at something ordinary that perfectly suits us be enough?

—

I suspect the answer to that question lies in part with our inability to really know ourselves. From the time we are young, we are given clues about who and what people want us to be. Most of the time, we mean no harm when we comment on a child’s personality, but I wonder how much of it shapes who they become. Or who they think they have to become.

In the last year, I’ve become obsessed (I don’t think that’s too strong of a word) with the Enneagram. It’s a personality assessment, I guess, but it’s more like a mirror into your true self. I have learned more about myself through the Enneagram in the last year-plus than I have maybe in the last decade. (I hope that doesn’t sound like an exaggeration.) I know more about why I do some of the things I do and how I need to change. Maybe most importantly, especially in light of what I’ve been writing about supporting roles, I know that my presence matters. That might not sound like any big revelation but’s that probably because you aren’t the same Enneagram type as me.

Knowing that my presence makes a difference in the world, that my voice matters, it changes how I go about my day, and it convinces me that this support job I do five days a week is an appropriate use of my life.

I’m almost 40 years old and I’m just learning this. I hope that you are further ahead in this area than I am. But if you’re not, could I encourage you to invest in learning about yourself? The more you know about who you are, what you’re suited for, and why you do what you do, the more likely you’ll be to find your role in the world. It might be a starring one. It might be a supporting one. It might be one no else understands.

Photo by Nicole Smith on Unsplash

But as long as it’s the right one for you, the world will be a better place.

The undeniable signs of middle age {plus a book review}

I never thought I’d be thinking about middle age in my 30s, although I’m sure there was a time in my life when 30 sounded ancient. Now, the older I get the younger all the ages ahead of me sound. 60? Still young! 70? Lots of life left to live! Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

I’ve always felt older in my head than my age would suggest, and there have been years when my actual age was in question because of some youthful attributes on my face. (Side note: It’s embarrassing to be mistaken for a high school student when you are actually a full-time journalist right out of college doing the reporting on the high school.)

I’m no longer trying to hang on to youth because I don’t even know what that means really, and frankly, I’m okay with leaving my 30s behind. I’m preparing myself to embrace 40 with hope and optimism. I have 2 1/2 more years to prepare, but lately I’ve been feeling more middle-aged.

Here’s why:

  • Most of my conversations with friends center on health issues and griping about insurance. I literally stood in the driveway of a friend’s house recently complaining about insurance rates and asking after her health. We’re only 37! How did this happen?
  • And speaking of health issues, I’m significantly more aware of mine. It’s like my body has given up. Now I talk freely with friends about bowel movements and words like “probiotics” are part of my vocabulary. Ew, gross.  (And if you need a couple of good laughs watch these SNL spoofs of Activia commercials. I used to think they were funny. Now they’re a little too funny if you know what I mean. Here  and here.) Next thing you know I’ll be eating bran muffins.
  • I’m reading the newspaper again. Not often. We don’t have a subscription, but the day after the Paris attacks, I was eating breakfast at Chick-fil-a with my kids and I read more pages in newsprint than I had in years. I’m increasingly less tolerant of online news and the articles written solely from one “side” or the other. I used to read the Associated Press wire religiously as part of my job as copy editor for a daily newspaper. I miss it.
  • When considering what to bring to a potluck recently, I was at a loss. I love to cook but we’d been sick for two weeks, off and on, and sometimes when I’m out of the rhythm of cooking, I lose inspiration. I got a bit nostalgic for my mom’s 7-layer salad, so I looked up a recipe (this one by The Pioneer Woman is what I went with and it was so yummy). Making a dish my mom “always used to make” and still does just makes me feel old. Not in a bad way, necessarily.
  • In a room full of people, I’m nowhere near the youngest, but I’m also not the oldest. I’m generally smack-dab in the middle.

Even a year ago, I would have seen these as signs that my life was OVER. That’s still a struggle, and I imagine it will only get worse the closer I get to 40 and beyond. So, I’m glad to have an encouraging guide to help me navigate these uncertain waters.

40-40-coverIt’s a book, of course, because books are my favorite teachers. It’s called 40/40 Vision: Clarifying Your Mission in Midlife by Peter Greer and Greg Lafferty. It’s a close look at the small Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes and what the great king Solomon has to say about the middle years viewed in retrospect. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book in exchange for my review.)

I was worried that this book would not be “for me.” I know, in part, my mission, and my calling as a writer is not dependent on my age. I’m not going to be forced into early retirement from my freelance career or from writing novels because of my age. I don’t feel adrift in my overall calling, though I do sense the need for clarity in some areas.

So, I’m happy to report that this book is for me. And you. And whoever is looking at the latter half of their life with fear, confusion, or worry. It’s not just a book for those who work full time or minister full time, nor is it just for men, who stereotypically have a “midlife crisis.” This is as much a book for a mom whose kids are growing more independent and who is rediscovering her free time as it is for a man stuck in a job he isn’t sure matters. It’s for the happily married man and the dissatisfied wife. The potential for a midlife crisis is not limited to one certain type of person.

Greer and Lafferty show us how to look at our lives–past and future–from the incomparable vantage point of the middle.

Opening our eyes to our own mortality and limitations can allow us to live more fully. Midlife is an opportunity to leave some of our youthful folly behind, to look back on our first forty and refocus on what matters most for our next forty–or however long we have. It’s a time to prepare for our second act, to get our second wind. (16)

I like the idea of midlife being a time of preparation, a chance to catch our breaths and evaluate what has been working in life and what hasn’t. This has revolutionized how I view the big 4-0.

And the authors don’t just address jobs and callings. They tackle issues of mortality, purpose, identity, friendship and building true wealth, among other things. And they do it with stories, both theirs and others, humor and grace.

If you feel stuck in the middle of life with little hope for the years ahead, or you dread the onset of middle age, this book will restore your focus to see all the good that lies ahead.

Check out the book trailer to decide for yourself if it’s for you.

 

What does the phrase “middle age” mean to you? How do you handle your own aging process?

And if you’ve already crossed into middle age, what have you found on the other side?