Ready for adulthood: 50, and 21

What is it about getting older that gives one a sense of completion, the further one gets from achieving the ubiquitous quest for personal fulfillment?  Some may call it a mid-life crisis, which drives the victim to a relentless self-absorption only quieted by more questioning. 

Turning 50 is my page in this story, soon to transpire whether I want it to or not.  I have already resolved to embrace it - this second half century of my life, or however many years "remain."

While this dramatic transformation readies itself in this coming year, Michael will simultaneously turn 21 - a symbol of adulthood, and for special needs adults enrolled in school, the end of their "school days" - and we will enter a new phase of life together with him.

When I last posted, I believe I felt a certain angst at the state of things.  But in an inexplicable turn of events and seasons, at the moment I find myself even more at peace with the unknown, and thoughts of the future.  What will Michael do daily, which might be meaningful to him?

Programs do exist, but waiting lists are even more numerous, and we have sought out organizations on which to put our names.  And now we wait.  In the meantime, there are Special Olympics' supported day programs, activities, horseback lessons, and trips to the supermarket with Mom or Dad.  Will this be enough for Michael, and will he thrive or languish, being away from his school friends and teachers - his community, his world?

My own future looms with uncertainty, but for the first time in several years, perhaps ever... the ambiguity of it all doesn't seem to matter to me.  Or at very least, it doesn't plague me, and has no power over me in this moment in time.  I look forward to possibilities and plans.  It is as if I have reverted to my blissfully ignorant early years, before having any children, in which all life questions had answers - and I was the great purveyor of solutions.

Yet this time it is different.  The solution, in this snapshot of time, seems almost comically to be the lack of solutions, and the wonder of resting in a suspended moment which lacks definition or answer.  I do not know what is next for us all, nor where it may lead.  The crossroads has become a multi-vortex tornado with its signature swirling beauty, escaping description and tantalizingly dangling endless possibilities before us.

As we reach the end of Michael's second-to-last year at school, we are faced with choices.  Should he return for one more year, his 21st, or is he ready for this next phase, to walk with and beside us, as well?  Only the next weeks will tell in what direction we are to travel.  But this time I am not afraid.  I am not bewildered, troubled, or chagrined at my lack of "planning."  Not knowing - is bliss!  We will triumph, because we should.  We will succeed, because our Lord knows each step on Michael's path - and has already seen and counted them all - and the way is perfect.

Inviting 50, and 21,
Elise