I turned FIFTY. Like a walk in the park.

Here's the thing about turning fifty: it was delightfully ordinary.

It was just what I needed.

I needed, in this banner year of extraordinary events, to have a milestone like turning fifty feel like it was always meant to happen: like stepping into the next half century was no big deal.

Just like every other Friday, I taught seminary, made lunches, dropped three kids off at school, and then instead of heading home to clean up from breakfast and start the laundry, I drove to Lowell.

Weeks before, I made a date to visit a museum with a friend. 

She used to attend church at our building, and then she moved. I've missed her.

We enjoyed a delightful Fall day making quick work of some of the best places in Lowell.
The library was our first stop, and it was stunning.

We had lunch.  We caught up, validated common experiences, listened to each other and laughed. 

 I let slip that it was my birthday, and she treated me to a box of delicious salted caramel chocolates from a local sweet shop.  

We walked a few more blocks together and I wished the time hadn't been so short.

We said our good byes, and then I became mom and taxi driver again.

I did use my taxi driver privileges to pull over a few times for pictures--turning 50 like a boss in charge of the best Fall ever.

It would be two or three more days before we would all rally 'round the table to share birthday pie together, because that's how it goes in a house full of anxiously engaged independent thriving adults/young adults and a lone pre-teen.  

We join forces and celebrate each other; we do what we do as best as we can, and squeezing a celebration into the routine seems marvelously ordinary.

I'm marching into the next fifty like a champ.