Well now... let’s just start with the obvious. Some things in life are simply out of our control. For example, the cowlick on the back of my head. Yes, that ‘permanent part’ that separates the left from the right side of the back of my head. I have tried everything, sprays, gels, prayers, and still from the back, I look like I just rolled out of bed and decided to face the world anyway. And as I’ve gotten older, even “industrial strength” hair products have waved the white flag. That ‘part’ is here to stay, and apparently, it’s in charge.
What can I say
Hair is one thing. But life... is another.
Lately, I’ve been feeling like life itself has gotten more than a bit out of control. Managing time, keeping up with responsibilities, handling surprises, even enjoying the day the way I used to, it all feels a little heavier, a lot less graceful. Some days, I think, “Jeannine, you are not exactly winning at this!”
So, I asked myself a fair question: Is there anything, anything at all I can do about it? And then I did something humbling; I looked around.
My husband Jim, at 86, living with Parkinson’s, gets up each day and meets it with quiet determination. He exercises, he walks with Homer and me every day, he listens to Karen’s medical advice (most of the time), and he moves through life with a kind of steady grace that makes me stop and question, “How does he do that?”
We walk with Homer several times a day
He and I are very different people. And we’ve made it, in spite of ourselves. Commitment, I think. I’ve often said to him, “If you were married to yourself, you would have divorced yourself years ago.” And truth be told, if I were married to Jeannine Becker, well, let’s just say I might have needed a very, very long vacation somewhere quiet. Or a therapist. Confession: within the first 10 years of our marriage, I stomped out my back door and yelled to God and the Universe, “I’m going to divorce that man!” And immediately, I heard deep, deep in my soul, “If you do, you will regret it.” 63 years later, I’m continuing to work really hard at keeping regrets to a minimum; an extremely important, hard lesson to learn.
We continue to smile and laugh
Then there’s Homer, our 18.5-year-old dog, practically a biblical figure at this point. Jim calls him our “Methuselah dog,” though he had to ask me what that meant. Homer moves a little slower some days, a little stiffer, a little more “selectively hearing,” moments of complete brain fog, but then there are mornings he prances like a puppy and reminds me that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be full.
Our precious Methuselah dog, 18.5 years old
My son John went through triple bypass surgery not long ago, and at the same time, his wife, Lynn, received a diagnosis that would shake any family: ALS. And yet, together, they are moving through it with courage, love, and a strength that humbles me to my core.
Blair and her dad, following surgery
Lynn and John
My daughter Ann is navigating retirement after 35 years of work, figuring out what this new season will look like. There are questions, adjustments, and yes, a very important, newly purchased “retirement chair” involved. Much time is spent in this chair contemplating her years ahead, and smooching with her kitties. Their sweet, older Bobbi Jo, aka JoCat, is recently toothless after full-mouth extractions and is learning to embrace a softer way of life. Aren’t we all, in one way or another?
Ann’s favorite place
JoCat, 11 years old
And Karen... oh, Karen. She’s pouring her heart into another Forever Dog book, determined to help as many pets and people as she can. Her days are crammed full... gardens, animals, responsibilities, deadlines, and yet she keeps showing up with purpose and passion, even when there’s not one thing easy about it.
Karen spends hours writing every day
This is her relaxation
Then there are my granddaughters, Blair and Danielle. They are holding down the family business through storms, quite literally: tornadoes, wind, and softball-sized hail that hit the Midwest and their community on March 10th, along with the everyday storms that come with the responsibility of our small family business, Dr. Becker's Bites. And still, they stand steady.
Blair and Danielle at the bakery
Moments before impact on March 10th
The "small" hail from that storm
When I really look at it, everyone around me is carrying something. Just like you are. Just like I am.
So maybe the issue isn’t that life feels out of control, maybe it’s how I’m choosing to respond to it. And that’s where I’ve landed. Not in fixing everything. Not in controlling anything, but one small, powerful choice, “pause”.
Pause. When that tornado starts spinning in my head, instead of chasing it, feeding it or becoming it, I’m learning to stop... step back... pause and breathe.
Just pause. Not think. Not solve. Not react. Just breathe.
Breathe peace.
Breathe calm.
Breathe space.
Breathe God.
Because maybe control isn’t about managing everything around us. Maybe it’s about gently choosing what we allow to happen within us.
I won’t win every day. I know myself too well. But I can choose how I meet the day. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. If you are thinking, “my goodness, she’s a slow learner,” you are absolutely correct! And quite frankly, that’s the primary takeaway of this story: age should never be a roadblock to learning and change. All we can control is ourselves, and that’s a full-time job, and should be our primary focus, at any age.
Thanks for listening,
P.S. Have you thought about the choices you make for your pet’s treats? If not, you might consider trying Dr. Becker’s Bites.
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