61 is 16 backwards!

I turned 61 on Tuesday May 26.

It dawned on me that age 61 is age 16 backwards.

So it got me thinking about what life was like for me at 16.

I was “Sweet 16 and never been Kissed.”

I thought something was wrong with me.

A couple of boys had tried when I was out with friends to kiss me but I shied away from contact. I wasn’t interested in them.

My first kiss came at 17 from a very nice boy who I didn’t appreciate at the time.

However, at age 16, I was writing stories with romance using my limited imagination, having never experienced romance in real life. I had read a lot of books, though, so I parroted some of what I read.

Although I had a few kisses in college and in my early 20s, I didn’t receive the kiss that really mattered until I was 24, when I had my own fairy tale romance with the man of my dreams. We fell in love and had a beautiful wedding. It was all a dream come true for me. Our marriage was good, until “til death do us part” actually happened when were still in our 40s. I lost him in a work accident.

I’ve written romances since he passed away, but now most of my characters are widowed or in some cases divorced.

Second-chance romance, a concept that was foreign to me at age 16.

Had someone told me on my wedding day that I would only have 20 years with the man of my dreams, I would have been in an even bigger hurry to say our vows. I know that because I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a moment of our lives together.

Through all the changes that have happened since I was a teenager, one constant remains. My faith in God has been with me on every step of my journey. I became a believer at a young age and was baptized. I never strayed toward the partying lifestyle. In part because our church started a youth group around that time. The fellowship and social activities gave me a place to belong, when I didn’t feel like I fit in at school.

Doors opened for me in high school that led to the opportunity to go to a Christian college and live in the dorms.
It was in college that I received my second kiss. From a nice upperclassman. Nice, that is, until he broke my heart. I can laugh about my “heartbreak” now, because it was so meaningless in comparison to really getting my heart broken when my husband passed away.

I had a couple of other boyfriends, one in college and one in my early twenties, that never went beyond a few kisses.
During those years, I did a lot of living: Studying, then teaching in Mexico; Leading youth group at my local church; Bible studies; and working full time at a couple of different jobs.

But I didn’t write any fiction during those years. In fact, a friend in Mexico told me that Christians shouldn’t write fiction. So I came home from there and threw out all the stories I’d written in high school.

That was a blessing in disguise, because I am embarrassed now at some of the things I wrote. I’m glad none of it was ever published.

After I married, we started a family. I became a stay-at-home mom. Suddenly, I spent all day with a baby, then a second one, without a lot of interaction. I suffered with undiagnosed postpartum depression. I disliked house work. I loved my kids and my husband, but I was bored and often lonely.

When my kids became toddlers, creativity once again blossomed in me. I wrote even through the darkest times in my life.

I wouldn’t become a published author until 2007, long after high school ended.

These days currently I have a lot of free time on my hands. I am widowed, two adult children share my house but live their own lives, and I don’t have a car, by choice, because I’ve chosen not to drive anymore due to medical issues.

Now that I have all the time I need, I have writer’s block. I haven’t written anything new for a while.

I have a few projects in various stages of completion that I’d like to finish. I have a book in the editing stages that I hope to release this summer.
I may struggle to get the words typed into a document, but one thing I am convinced of:

God is not done writing MY story.

I thought I knew enough about life to write at age 16. I do know a lot more about it at age 61. But I will never stop learning what God has in store for me, as He does something new in my heart every day.

My struggles with social anxiety have made me a recluse of sorts, but God is helping me extend my “box.” I hope to make great strides this summer with participating in life outside my four walls again.

And as I begin a new year of life, at age 61, I pray that God will help me to be a blessing to others and grow my faith.

And maybe, just maybe, to complete some of the writing projects I’ve neglected.