A chance to call back should never be wasted <3

Last week I read a post from a younger than me friend. 

She was asking others who have entered their fifth decade what they would like to have known. It got me pondering and I have mulled over it all through the week and weekend. 

The first thing that comes to mind is I met her through our daughter who is a contemporary of hers as well as a friend. And the fact that she is asking about this because she is this age has me floored.

I am realizing that the young girls who are around Rachel’s age are actually the age I was when I first struggled with the number of candles that could potentially be on my birthday cake. 

Thankfully we have the habit of randomly assigning the color of our candles to a set amount of years so we can use fewer candles. 

To me, these women are so young that I want to envy them, but I remember like yesterday how I felt when I had to write that number down on a doctors form. 

So this morning I am going to attempt to “call back” to her and to any others like her who are entering their fifth decade. Calling back comes from an old poem written by Mrs. Charles Cowman in Streams in the Desert. I will include that sweet poem at the end if you don’t know it. 

The poet uses the voice of one making a climb who calls ahead to someone farther up. It asks for a call back to let the one who is making her way have assurance that the one ahead made it and knew God’s faithfulness all the way to the summit. 

Well, I am not at the summit yet, but I am farther along the journey and so I will call back to my young friends.

Dear younger sister, 

As I read your question, I heard my own voice eighteen years ago. 

I had begun dreading my fiftieth birthday the day I turned forty-nine, but I looked at our two young daughters and I wanted to set a good example for them. So I put on a brave face and laughingly said I was embracing turning fifty and apparently it worked because it was a marvelous decade. 

In my fifties I finally felt grown up in a good way. 

We had graduations from high school and colleges, we did weddings and walked through heartaches. We buried first my mom, then my aunt and then my dad at the beginning of my 50’s and Russ’s parents towards the end. 

We were gifted four grandchildren and lost our family dog. 

I juggled a variety of part time jobs that helped cover the extras and gave me freedom to be where I needed to be for our family. 

The pinnacle was the year we had two college tuitions and I was able to cover one with my collection of meager paychecks from three part time jobs. For the first time I felt like I had accomplished what a successful career must feel like. 

The precious doctor that delivered our grandbabies removed the parts of me that had caused me grief from age 13.

 We took up biking and hiking and I learned to accept the smile lines on my face as evidence that I must have smiled a whole lot because when I didn’t smile the remnants were deep grooves. 

So I decided to just keep smiling into them. 

There were times when I looked in the mirror and thought how on earth did I get to look this old, but now I see photos and wish I had that face back again. Ha!

I found my style and my pace. I began to accept my failures and flaws and dug deeper into gratitude for a Savior who saved me and loved me in spite of them. 

I grew more in love with my husband; more protective of him and our marriage. 

I realized at some point that you share your children with the other parent and your grandchildren with another set of grandparents, but your spouse is yours alone to love and care for. I finally got it that he is mine alone and I am his and that’s a precious gift. 

I settled into the fact that our house will never be a showplace, but it will always be a lovely eclectic collection of things that are meaningful to us, comfortable to be in and open to people to feel at home when they can be here. 

 I lost the desire to compete or keep up with trends and found what works for me in decorating and fashion.  

Some friendships changed because they were for a season. Some grew stronger and deeper. And God delighted us with a whole population of people who have become friends for a season or maybe longer depending on His plan. 

I learned to be at peace with the friendships that were no longer active and be grateful for the years we had. 

I learned the hardest lessons of betrayal and worked through the long road to forgiveness and the healing that comes when we finally let go of the bitterness. 

So all in all I would call back to you and say, you are doing great dear. 

God is faithful and He is with you every step. 

Keep climbing. 

Keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

Enjoy the scenery, and please take advantage of the benches provided along the way for rest. 

But be sure and get up again once you are refreshed. 

The view just gets more beautiful as you climb.

Take note of those who are traveling with you and be kind. Be grateful for the ones who call back to you. The ones who called back to me are many at the summit now. But the treasures they poured into me about God’s faithfulness still ring in my ears as I make my climb. 

Remember to call back to those coming behind you. They need to hear your voice. 

While I am thankful to also be able to walk alongside you, in truth I know I am farther along and so I look forward to seeing you at the top where we shall gather with all those who went before us and what a glorious reunion that will be <3

Call Back

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back-

’Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;

And, if perchance, faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low, 

Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go. 

Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;

Call back, and say He kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;

That when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill, 

He bore you up and held you where the air was very still. 

Oh, friend, call back and tell me, for I cannot see your face;

They say it glows with triumph, and your feet bound in the race;

But there are mists between us, and my spirit eyes are dim;

And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him. 

But if you’ll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry, 

And if you’ll say He saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky, 

If you have gone a little way ahead, Oh friend, call back-

’Twill cheer my heart and help my feel along the stony track.  

Mrs. Charles Cowman

Streams in the Desert