Acting your Age

I've reached an awkward age in life.  At some point, reality sinks in, you look around you, and realize, "Hmmm, I'm no longer the youngest person here." This happens at work, church, and specifically on nights out on the town.  I wish I could say when I was younger I tore the town up, burning the nights away, staying up and partying like I was a rock star...actually, I'm glad I can't say that.  Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of nights that ended, or briefly paused, with a Sunrise, but it was not the norm for me.  Call me boring, call me an old soul, just don't call after ten anymore (man that's a lame joke), but I'm keeping it.

Last night, however, I realized the interesting position I am in.  No longer am I relegated to the bottom of the age group, but I'm also not at the top.  With youth comes the excuse and inexperience that gets you into trouble and out of trouble, both of these for the noviceness of your life position.  With age comes wisdom enough to keep you out of the aforementioned trouble, hopefully.  But, me, in the middle, the median, this puts me in the position to work the young and the old. 

Last night Elizabeth and I went to a Citizen Cope concert.  Not a bad concert, but nothing to blog about (ha, this is irony).  We took our newly acquired place in the crowd, not the very front, but not the very back either, it corresponds with age.  We managed to find a nice elevated place with a concrete pillar behind us, the concert was under a bridge but not as sketchy as that seems.  We had a perfect view of the stage, a perfect, not too loud, completely unobstructed, comfortable view.  But, with anything there was one flaw, namely the four feet of empty, elevated space in front of us.  This area was just begging for someone to stand there.  Well, I had to get defensive a couple of times, and this is where my age came in to play.  First, an older lady, in her mid to late 40s, stood up in front of us, knocking out our line of sight with Mr. Cope. You just can't react with anger to an elder...my momma taught me that, but you can pout, my sister taught me that.  She stood up and turned to look at me.  Immediately I slumped my shoulders, poked out my bottom lip, and gave her the most defeated look I could muster.  Success! She quickly stepped down and the view was clear again. 

About ten minutes later, these two young ladies, no more than 22 years, came and decided it was their turn to play with the big boys.  They agilely hopped up to the space in front of me.  Well, the pouty face just wasn't going to cut it with this one. So instead I threw daggers.  No, not literal daggers, but figurative ones shooting from my eyes.  I stared them down with a look of "You can't be seriously considering standing in MY way.  You don't have the audacity to follow this one through."  Success, again!  Sheepishly and I'm hoping a bit scared, they retreated to safe, dagger-free position.  We were able to enjoy the rest of the concert with no problems or challenges. 

An interesting age and time the tumbling into "midlife." At times I find myself resisting with my entire being, but sneaking around the corner is the peace that comes with acceptance.  I guess the secret is to find your niche in each station of your life.  Allow where you've been to guide where you go without the fear of loosing yourself to obsolescence.  Never being afraid to recreate who you are with the pieces of what you learn, where you've come, and the Who you want to be.