The Journey of Life from Womb to Grave
We speak a lot about the journey of life, but do we ever think much about the process of travel from birth to death? How do we get from the womb to the grave anyway?
Life is one big trip. Beginning with that first slide down the birth canal, we enter headfirst into a world where we seem to be always traveling. And with no idea where we are headed!
In the beginning, we are carried, strapped to a backpack, tucked into a stroller, or straddling the wide hips of someone who has learned to use her hands and feet in ways that we can’t imagine. We just go along for the ride.
I remember my first real ‘vehicle.’ It was a light blue metal stroller, shaped, as I recall, somewhat like a peanut with a small wooden handle that I gripped to ‘steer’ as I flew down the sidewalk with my mother trailing behind. This buggy represented freedom in my tiny world which, until now, had been confined to the limits of two chubby legs and a picket fence.
Unlike travel as an adult, I was totally unconcerned about the source of power for my ride, or about packing for the trip, or where I was headed. Compared to the rebellion of later years, I lived a life surrendered in faith that I would end up where I was supposed to be.
The Joy of Motion
Is this what Jesus meant when he said to be like a little child if I want to understand heavenly things? For me, all forward motion was heavenly! Especially when I graduated to a shiny red Schwinn with fat tires and a bell by my right thumb.
Not only could I ride farther, faster, and with more pizzazz, I could choose where I wanted to go, taking either the flat, paved road or the more thrilling hills and curves that offered excitement and challenge.
The power I needed for this adventure rested in the strength of my legs and the determination of my will. With youthful exuberance, I knew no limits.
I felt freedom. As master of my destiny, I no longer traveled where another led, at a pace too slow for my racing spirit.
For all the freedom that Schwinn gave me, however, it was not long before I began to yearn for more, to go farther than my legs could pedal, to get there faster than two wheels could turn, and most importantly, I began to long for company on my journey.
Movin’ Ahead with Speed
Soon I found myself behind the wheel of a bullet-shaped, green Studebaker from the ’50s, uglier than sin, but more than acceptable for a young woman growing up in rural Maine.
Now life would really move!And my friends could come along for the trip. No longer traveling alone, I had the admiration of my peers, access to distant towns and adventures.
I knew the golden door of opportunity lay just beyond the next bend — or the next.
And so I kept driving – certain that something heavenly lay ahead, even though I could no longer inhale deeply of the fresh air or stop to ponder grazing cows or budding flowers like I could on my bike. The journey itself no longer provided my joy.
Joy was a lot farther out. Joy was in the destination.
Slowing Down
And then my life crashed to a halt. Ill health caused me to turn in my unlimited lifestyle for a single seat on four wheels.
The destination no longer seemed as important. A turquoise blue wheelchair with a reclining back took me where I needed to go, as long as there was a ramp to get me out the door.
Once again, I had time to inhale the fresh air as I traveled. And once again, I depended on a Power outside of myself for the journey.
The years when a wheelchair provided my mobility, I discovered the blessing of ‘now’, the value of being present to whatever grew, or played, or vibrated within a 6-feet circle and the importance of surrender, stillness and prayer.
What Really Matters
Today, as a traveler through life’s hills and valleys it no longer matters if my vehicle resembles a pale blue, peanut-shaped stroller with a wooden handle in the front or a bright red VW bug (my current joy!). What matters is that I know that I am moved by a power beyond my physical strength according to a plan not recorded on a roadmap, and a purpose greater than arriving at a particular destination.
My journey is called Aging. The scenery along the way is incredible! I no longer focus on the destination.
My joy sprouts all along the path and I give thanks for the ability to see it…regardless of the speed.
