Time

Senior Boots and Our Hope for Tomorrow

/ A. Ward, LPC / Leave a comment

Heading down to my Alma Mater to celebrate a new generation, and I can hardly believe the passing of time. Texas A&M University- it’s been too long, and I may or may not have teared up as that skyline came into view. Former Student is right- you never stop being an Aggie. So much has changed, yet as the saying goes, so much remains the same, and I am thankful once again that tradition here runs deep.

Senior boots are a big, big deal, and I’m so proud of my nephew tonight. As I stand on Simpson Drill field looking out at A&M’s finest lined up in rows, dreams written across their young faces, I wonder where the time has gone. Twenty- five years ago they were my peers, and now they are our children, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren. In no time at all, we’re the middle aged visitors to these hallowed halls that used to be ours, and they are our hope for tomorrow. It hits different when they’re yours and the world that we’re handing them is on fire with peace upended.

But today- they are invincible. Youthful eyes bright with hopes not yet realized and courage for life’s battles they’ve yet to fight. Newly minted young men and women, the last remnants of childhood melted away in the Texas sun.

And those seniors on the sidelines- so full of life and vigor, cigar smoke swirling around their heads as they sing and sway to that War Hymn I know so well. Reassuring us all that the Spirit of Aggieland does indeed live on. They are the kings of the day, and every one of us knows it.

Congratulations, my fellow Aggies- the best of your lives lie before you, and we are so proud of you all. Now go and do great things. Return with honor, and Gig’em👍🏻

The Friends That Stay

/ A. Ward, LPC / Leave a comment

 At a recent conference I honed my craft and spent precious time with friends both old and new. Some I hadn’t seen in twenty years, but in the breath of “Hello,” time collapsed. It is one of life’s great blessings to have friends like that. You know the ones? The ones where it doesn’t matter that twenty years have come and gone, and picking up right where we left off is as natural as the laugh lines that now crease our faces.

We spoke of everything and nothing. Children born, life lived, friends we missed, victories won, and lessons learned. 

We laughed til we cried, talking into the wee hours of the morning as we rushed to fill the gap of years in the span of days, yet lingered over conversations poured out like wine that time might move more slowly. 

There is a sacredness here. In the celebrated and mundane. In sharing a meal and breaking bread- whether at the trendy hotel bistro between sessions or around a campfire in the Canadian Wilds when all we had was time. It shows up when we commit ourselves to community, to living up close and in the real. Somewhere in the sweating and the swearing and the striving and the praying and working towards a common goal, a gift emerges. 

Come as you are, let down your hair, pull up a chair, and stay awhile, only friendship is being served. Through reminiscence, new adventures, clinical and philosophical discussions, loud card games, and late night talks, we unfold our lives in turn. There is no hiding here. And no need for it either. They earned the right to speak truth into my life long ago, and that doesn’t fade with time. 

“We collect people,” one of them said, speaking of her own life, and where it’s taken her. This humble statement whispered, both simple and profound, catches me off guard. Collecting people, I can’t help but think, what’s more beautiful than that? As we go through this life don’t we all, if we’re wise, find a few souls to pull close and pour into? And in so emptying ourselves, are filled in return, a blessing pressed down, running over.

The Awakening

/ A. Ward, LPC / Leave a comment

Awakened.

That’s a word we hear thrown around a lot. Being in touch with our inner selves- alive and awake to the calling within us to make this dream a reality. In some ways, I feel farther away from this dream than ever- mentally, financially, physically. Still vigorous, yet slightly startled to find that the slow beat of time I marched to in my youth has picked up its tempo. Real worries and deadlines and responsibilities that keep me up at night and feelings of not quite yet where I thought I’d be make up the cadence of the drumbeat to which I trod, up, up the mountain.

And it is here- at this tenuous precipice- that I find myself daring to hope for more, praying for abundant blessing to rain down from heaven and water these dry bones, breathing fresh life into these dreams of mine. For this dream ahead of me calls louder and shines clearer than ever. So clear, in fact, that what’s here and now verses what’s yet to be flickers in and out of view. But who’s to say which is more real- that which stands in front of me or that which beats within me?

This in-the-middle-age is no joke. As the little hands that hold tight to mine grip a little looser and grow a little bigger every day, they serve as a constant reminder of the press of time as it falls faster and faster through the hour glass of my life.

Visions of what could be if I dare to pour life into this hope are a fragile lifeline to this dream of mine in my all too awakened spirit. A lifeline that I balance upon, walk like a tightrope. A trapeze artist, I fly higher and higher as I strive, only to find I must let go of my safe hold if I am to soar above my circumstance and awaken fully to my dreams.