Now that I’m entering the last trimester of my 80th year, I seem to be reflecting back on the things I have done in my life, for which I am not very proud. It really is sad that a person has to live so many years before recalling incidents they would choose to relive – not because they were so enjoyable, but because we wish we had the opportunity to erase the mistakes we made. Maybe it is because we know the time is drawing closer when we will have to answer to a higher being than anyone here on Earth. As I heard my mother say many times - “You get your Hell on Earth” – but I never gave a lot credibility to that thought until I realized I was thinking occasionally ‘maybe it might be true.’

I am ashamed to remember that when I was young (possibly 5 or 6 yrs. old) there were times when I would rather tell a “fib” (trivial lie) than admit to my parents I had carelessly broken something they valued. I know now they would rather have had me admit my guilt than know (as I am sure they did) that I was not being honest. Had I realized when I was that age that telling a fib is the basis for lying oneself into a tangled web of deceit, I would have saved myself much suffering from self-guilt when I was growing up – specifically in my teens – when I wanted to ‘have my cake and eat it too.’

I have to admit that during those years, it was not unusual for me to turn down an invitation with a lame excuse, and later accept an invitation that promised to be more fun. I can only rationalize by saying I was young, self-centered, and not very God-fearing. At times, when things didn’t turn out as I expected, I did think “I just got what I deserved” or “Is this some of my Hell on Earth?” - a sign that I might have had a little conscience after all.

During World War II, when the fellows my age were called to serve our country, I was going through my “dating” years. I must say, my parents really never were too concerned that I was going to “go off the deep end” and marry someone not measuring up to the standards they had for a future son-in-law. I think that is because they knew I was just fickle enough to tire of a boyfriend as soon as I was sure I had won his affection. Pretty shallow? – You bet.

I was married in my early twenties to a very hard-working, religious. and honorable person who had served in the Navy during World War II. We were happily blessed with four sons and did our best to instill in them a sense of honesty, ambition, and respect for others. Our married life was not always perfect and neither was any of the four sons – they were normal teenagers who did things that we were not proud of, as well as things for which their father and I were very proud. We lived through some lean years on the farm, but realize they were happy years in spite of being stressful. It took hardships and disappointments for me to mature to be more considerate of others, God-fearing, and sensitive to other people’s feelings.

I lost my husband of 47 years to a very rare disease – the cause of which is unknown – “just a virus you breathe in” they said at Mayo Clinic. I miss him immensely but I know I will see him again someday. I have learned to be compassionate and appreciate good friends. I have learned to count my blessings instead of dwelling on my disappointments. Most of all, I pray that those whom I offended and hurt throughout my lifetime (and the Lord) will forgive me.