I think a few years of twelve-step recovery groups have messed with my head just a bit. I’ve gotten “one day at a time” drilled into me like nobody’s business. It was good at first, because I was pretty much living fifty years at a time when I first dragged myself into those group meetings, but now…well, now I might just have the opposite problem.
Here’s where I’m at today. I’m living in faith for this day in front of me. And pretty much tomorrow too. No real huge worries, to be honest (even in my current circumstances). And on a typical day, I really don’t look too much farther ahead than this week. That’s huge for me. So, there’s my one day at a time thing working its magic.
And then, when my mind is wandering, I jump ahead just a tad. As in, I can picture where I’ll be during the next five years (if we ever actually move there), and what my main purpose will be (love and train my children through the teenage years and prepare them for adulthood). My next five years is pretty much all set. Not a lot of fear when I look ahead. Just simply good to know what’s coming for the most part.
And then, well, I jump ahead a lot. My death. I believe that the moment after I die, I’ll be in the presence of God. How mind-blowingly amazing is that? Talk about something to look forward to. Some people can’t wait til Friday or their Caribbean cruise. Those of us who believe in Jesus, we’ve got a completely secure and totally cool future ahead of us.
So, here’s my problem. Mid-August of 2016, I’ll be helping my son pack up his car and he’ll pull out of our driveway (after I pry myself off him from my mama bear hug) and I’ll walk back into our big vacant house, a forty-five year old empty-nester, all alone.
I know what I’m doing today. I know what I’m doing tomorrow. I know what I’m doing for the next five years. I know what I’m doing after I die. But forty-five to death has me scratching my head and a little worried, I must say.
When I start to think about those years, that last half of my life, I get worked up and scared. I don’t want to be a woman who clings to her children, who makes them feel guilty for leaving me (sigh) “all alone” to go out and live their lives. I don’t want to be a woman who becomes a needy bother to her friends. Who never leaves her house. Or who, heaven forbid, gets a lot of cats. But probably because of the grieving place that I’m currently in, I can’t see big and bright plans for myself during that season of mine.
But if one day at a time has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t need see plans for forty-five to death. I just need to see what’s in front of me. So that’s what I’m trying to do this day.
If this post helped you, “Moving On as a Christian Single Mom” is for you, found here.