Too Late?
I remember arriving at my childhood home a few years after I was married and I could smell the molasses cookies my mother had just finished baking.
“Too late. I just sent the last batch with your father for his committee meeting at the school.”
Dang!
And I remember watching the train pull out of the station…the last one available if I was to get to work on time in the city when I lived near Boston.
Too late!
Double dang.
If I were to count up all the times I have been “too late,” I would question my capacity to arrive at my own funeral on time!
Following up on my recent post about time, the only reason we are ever ‘too late’ is because we are living with calendars, deadlines, timelines, lifelines. Chronos time!
We are trained to think in those terms.
But what if the real question isn’t Is it too late?
Late for What?
What if the question is Late for what?
Am I too late to become who I am meant to become?
Is it too late to write the book that has been circling my heart for years?
Is it too late to forgive someone after they die?
What about learning to paint, or pray differently, or fall in love with mornings? Or just fall in love?
Late has a time stamp on it, and I am learning that I don’t have to accept those limits.
Maybe for taking fresh cookies out of the oven….but not for the things that truly matter.
Putting Things Off
I wish I had started writing decades ago and there is a voice in my head that says to start when you are over 70 is ‘too late.’
That voice lies!
I know someone who picked up a paintbrush for the first time after he turned 80.
He spent no useless energy bewailing that he never painted earlier in life.
He had been busy living it…all over the world.
It wasn’t until he settled down in the quietness of a tiny apartment that he bought a set of paints and set about creating works of genius! Was he too late?
Have you been wanting to do something…travel? Knit? Plant a garden? Write a book?
It is never too late! Unless you are measuring your output as a measure of success.
Let’s face it, when we start anything at this end of life, our output can not be measured quantitatively. Nor should it!
The older I get the more I live without something to measure my success.
Nor do I really care. At least the way I used to.
Enoughness and Courage
I can write these blog posts and not a whit of it would be acceptable in a Master’s Degree creative writing program. It is enough to put words on the paper…and share them. Bravely.
For I am a beginner.
There is a season in life when we gather degrees, children, mortgages, and expectations. And there is another season—often quieter—when we begin to gather courage.
- The courage to do what we postponed.
- The courage to stop doing what no longer fits.
- The courage to begin something simply because it calls us.
I realize I have had a bit of a jump on some of the challenges of aging. Illness rearranged my timeline long ago. There were things I could not do when others were climbing ladders or building careers. I had to learn how to sit still when I wanted to run. I learned how to ask for help when I preferred competence. I learned how to measure life differently.
When is Late too Late?
And what I learned is this: Life does not move in straight lines. It circles back. It waits. It opens small doors when we think the hallway is closed.
I meet people who whisper, “I wish I had started earlier.” I understand that ache.
But I also understand that earlier versions of ourselves may not have been ready. The soil may not have been prepared. The questions may not have ripened.
If I had started writing (like many successful writers proclaim) when I was old enough to hold a pencil, I can only imagine the path my life would have taken.
I could have written some syrupy fiction, I suppose, but I couldn’t write the reflections I do today.
My life needed to be planted in fertile ground to receive the seeds that today are sprouting into books and poems.
Late…or Seasoned?
There is a kind of beginning that only happens later in life.
The world tells us youth is the prime window for reinvention. But I am not convinced.
Later life holds a certain freedom. We have less to prove. Fewer illusions to maintain. We know what hurts. We know what matters.
That is not “too late.”
That is seasoned.
It’s Never Too Late to Begin
If you are asking this question because of a dream—write it. Paint it. Live it.
If you are asking because of a relationship—step closer into it. Or leave it. Or seek a new one.
If you are asking because you feel the nudge toward something that frightens you just a little—that may be the very sign that it is precisely the right time.
We are not racing anyone. There is no English teacher waving a red pencil in our face.
There is no judge holding up scorecards as we rise from our chairs.
And even if our body moves more slowly now, our soul may be moving more honestly.
Perhaps the only true “too late” is the day we decide not to begin. Again.
A Question for You
So let me ask you, honestly—
What is stirring?
And what would happen if you took one small step toward it today…not because you are young enough, but because you are ready?
It may not be early…or late.
It may be exactly on time.
It’s Never Too Late to Join
TheReflectivePen!
