Midlife Madness - Focus on the Family Africa

Midlife Madness

by Mary Pierce

For 20 years, my husband, Terry has had a fan blowing on his side of the bed all night long. For 20 years, I hated that fan.

“I’m cold,” I complained.

“I’m hot,” he said.

“The constant blowing dries out my eyeballs,” I whined.

“How is that possible when your eyes are closed all night?”

“I don’t know! I just know I hate wearing my flannel pajamas all year long!”

So it went for 20 years. He was hot. I was cold.

Then, one night, my hormones abandoned me. I started having my own personal summer, as they say. The next morning, after Terry left for work, I commandeered his fan and moved it to my side of the bed.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” he asked that night.

“I need the fan now. I’m having hot flashes.”

“So? I’ve been hot for 20 years!”

“So now it’s my turn,” I said.

“Houston,” he said, “we have a problem.”

A problem indeed. Midlife madness had commenced.

We now have two fans in the bedroom. His has a built-in sensor that turns the fan on and off with the room temperature. Mine has a remote control clicker, so I can turn the fan on and off in a flash. Some nights my fan is like a neon sign blinking, “HOT FLASH! COLD CHILL!” All that clicking and blinking exhausts me.

Where are the energetic young folks we used to be? I’ll tell you where — yawning by 8 p.m. and hitting the sack by 9. And where is the young couple who stayed up late, talking, laughing and romancing into the wee hours while the kids slept? Now the kids are the ones who are up half the night while we snooze, flash, click and blink. And we, not our kiddies, are the ones who need a nap after lunch.

The way we were is no longer the way we are. We don’t sleep like we slept. We can’t eat like we ate. And we can’t move like we moved. Quickly. Quietly. Painlessly.

We’re getting older. We can’t deny it any longer. Our bodies won’t let us. But the little aches and pains pale in comparison to the serious health issues soon to follow midlife: vision problems, heart troubles, cancer scares.

A friend’s cancer returned recently for the third time. As treatment began, the doctor said, “We’re looking for an interval.” An interval of remission.

“How long of an interval?” she asked. The doctor didn’t have an answer. Only God knew.

We see the truth more clearly now. This life is, for all of us, that interval between birth and death. How long is ours? Only God knows. That’s true at any age. The real question is: “How well do we live it?”

As the end of the childrearing tunnel comes into view, we sense new adventures ahead. We don’t want to waste another moment worrying about fans, creaks and groans.

We will celebrate the daily gift of time on earth. Time to love one another. Time to thank God for His love that remains the same, regardless of the shape we’re in.

For all we’re losing — hormones, flexibility and hair — we’re gaining something far more valuable: perspective.

On a recent sunny Saturday afternoon, well-rested and kid-free, Terry and I talked about the battles and blessings of midlife. Sharing a slice of coconut custard pie with mile-high meringue, we took time to thank God for satisfying relationships, fulfilling work and restored health. We thanked Him for our faith that has been tested by trials. And we thanked Him for coconut pie, sunny days and an interval of peace.

Mary Pierce enjoys midlife in Eau Claire, Wis.