Lindsay Eland - Middle Grade Author

My daughter asked me just this morning, “why do stuffed animals get ruined the more you love them?”

And when she asked me this I couldn’t help but think of the stuffed animal in question: my daughter’s sock monkey named Jer-Jer. This monkey accompanies her every where and israrely out of her embrace. His arms have been sewed up twice as were his legs, the yarn that was once his mouth is now a black sharpie line, and he has holes in his legs and his ears. He has been chewed on by a neighborhood dog, dragged through the dirt, spit-up on, and soaked with tears. 

And though ruined is not quite the word I would use, in a way…it is.

He has been forever ruined by such great love.

And isn’t that the way of love and of life? We are so much like a well-loved stuffed animal. As we make our way through each day and week and month and year we are dragged through the dirt and chewed on, we are hugged and kissed and adored, we have holes that are sewn up the best that we can, and we’re missing stuffing, and sometimes even our smile.

But each one of us is loved…truly loved.

And when we reach that point in our lives when the end comes, we can either look back at our lives with a frown and say, “it’s ruined.” Or we can look at our lives and smile and know that yes, we’ve been wonderfully ruined by a life filled with the heartache and joy, the harshness and softness of real love.

 So I am now officially out of my twenties. Yes, I have embarked into my thirties and I am filled with excitement.

 For many people this age is hard…filled with a sense of the gradual loss of youth and the thought of “old” that you now attach to your  life. And it is true, just as in every age and stage of life…something is lost or gone or ended. Yet, at the same time, new and exciting  and thrilling things are just beginning! 

 So though a small part of me mourns over the end of my twenties and the fact that I can’t deny any longer that I do not look like a  college student, and I have been out of high school for eleven…wait, twelve years, I still can’t help but be excited about my thirties.

 Why not, right?

 My life these past thirty years…all these yesterdays that I have lived and loved and laughed through, have been filled with everything  from deep sadness and despair, to hope, love and overwhelming joy…so how can I not help but look on the next thirty years with  eager expectation.

And what will life hold for me tomorrow and the next day?

I have no idea.

It’s exciting to imagine tomorrow and what it will hold. What surprises will unfold. What sadnesses will come? And both of these are bound to come because that is life: the blending and merging of pain and sorrow with joy and elation and then everything in between. But, with friends and family who have loved me so well and have stood so close by me, why should I dread another year, why should I fear another day?

Cheers for another decade!