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.
Bonnie Keast
What a lovely reminder of the preciousness of the journey. Thank you.
There’s a Path of Life in Vermont that develops stopping points in our journey, giving us a chance to meditate as you do, about various crossroads of life.
Ardis Mayo
My joy. Thank you. My hope is that people will reflect on their own journeys! Maybe even write about them!
Pat
So much of my life I spent being in a hurry to “arrive” at some particular place or accomplish a goal, preferrable as quickly as possible so I could get on to the next. I am now beginning to hear (again) that the important thing is the journey and not the arriving. Learning to slow down long enough to appreciate each moment is still a struggle but I’m leaning into it. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Ardis Mayo
You are selcome Pat. In a few weeks, look for a post on ‘Slow vs Fast’…it may bring some balance to your reflection and struggle.
Sandra Rands Guilfoyle
I was randomly thinking about a Studebaker that belonged to my Grandad. I told me that he would give it to me when He didn’t need it anymore. Apparently, he didn’t tell anyone else. I never did find out what happened to it. My fondest memory of that car was that my grandfather always opened and closed the door for my grandmother. I remember him helping her putting on her coat. I know that feminist now might frown upon this, but my grandparents didn’t have a lot of extra money and this was the way he was able to show his kindness and love to his wife.
Ardis Mayo
What a wonderful memory! I too, recall the gesture of having a door opened. We have lost a lot of grace in the struggle for equality. Thank you for sharing this!
Mary Parsons
Love this, brought back many memories as I was reading this. Just finished getting from point A to point B after a fall in Nov. Having to depend on someone for almost everything for a month was an eye opener. Made me realize just how important the little things are. I am soo grateful for my son and so proud that he did whatever was needed. Am on the mend and only using a cane outside. Because of being independent it was hard to accept help. So I ‘m on my journey with old age and looking forward to the next chapter. Hopefully staying on my feet. Thanks for your wonderful writings Ardis. ?
Ardis Mayo
You are welcome, Mary. I am glad these writings bring a bit of perspective and joy into your life. I have always tried to remember that as long as I am able to get from point A to point B, regardless of how, or if I have to ask someone else to drive, I am still independently using my power of choice. It’s really about mindset.
Francisca
Another delightful read, Ardis. Funny, really, so often things are presented as binary options. For example, we speed along OR we stop to smell the roses; we appreciate the journey OR the destination. For me, it’s a YES, AND. Sometimes the speed freak in me is in the forefront; other times I like to meander. I can appreciate the sweet anticipation of a destination and the destination itself, while also savoring the journey to get there. Keep writing, as that too is a journey with a destination.
Ardis Mayo
I am glad you are able to see the “both-and” in every journey!
Eleanor Miller
I really needed to hear this today. Thank you, as always, for your inspiration and comfort.
Ardis Mayo
I am glad these words met you at your point of need.
Elaine Blethen
Ardis Mayo
Thank you for commenting. I wonder if a spirit of amazement isn’t another of the secrets to aging with grace.