Our lives are a series of events and unfoldings. The stories that we tell about them largely affect the quality and purpose of our living.
This week there is a strange repeating of ages in my life. On February 28th, my son Paul will be thirteen years and twenty-two days old – the exact age that I was when I was in a car accident that killed my father Loren and my sister Laura and left me paralyzed from the chest down. Amazingly, I am also forty-seven years old – the same age that my father was when he died. In fact, on the 28th, I will be forty-seven years and one hundred and sixteen days where as my father was forty-seven years and one hundred and nine days when he died. I will be one week his senior.
I am relieved that the ages do not repeat exactly in this next generation – that would be a little too spooky. Instead, I get to watch two ages unfold simultaneously. As I watch Paul, I cannot believe how young and innocent he is…how innocent I was all those years ago. This year I hope to watch Paul’s innocent begin its unfolding into manhood and without the test of trauma and tragedy. Correspondingly, I cannot believe how young my father was. He seemed so old and grown up when he was lost to me. But now I know firsthand that there was so much he didn’t know and so much more he had yet to learn. As I step past my father into more ages, I get to love him for all that he was, including his imperfections.
One of my favorite images from my book Waking is that one’s life is like a river gaining current. In this year upcoming year, Paul Loren and I move into uncharted waters as father and son. For this adventure, I am grateful.