My blog title is a reference to a great baseball flick series from 2001—61*. It’s about New York Yankee, Roger Maras on his quest to beat Babe Ruth’s home run record. Maras, played by Barry Pepper, (who incidentally I would cast as my husband if he ever gets a biopic) confronts criticism and outright hostility as he slowly, and almost reluctantly edges out fan favorite, Micky Mantle. The all-important asterisk is a reference to the fact that Maras did not beat Babe Ruth in the same number of games. By 1961, the baseball season had become longer, so Maras’ achievement is qualified because he had more games than Ruth to smash the record. So instead of an unquestionable distinction in baseball history, Maras gets a disclaimer.
Alas, my 51* has nothing to do with home run records or rivalry in the dugout. Today I’m 51 years old. This one is big. I don’t usually make a big deal about birthdays. Most people fixate on 50 and I certainly did some of that. This year, however, comes with a whole lot more baggage, hence the asterisk. It’s an age that while seemingly surreal and out of touch for me—there’s no way I’m that old—also feels as if it’s been with me all along, eerily present and the number I’ve been chasing for decades now.
My mom was 51 when she died. I was 22. I’ve finally reached the age when her brilliant light went out.
Recently, I wrote about how God spoke to me through an incidence of eavesdropping. You can read about it here. In His not-so-subtle way, the dear Lord woke me up to a weakness that regularly plagues me: I don’t trust Him. I constantly question the benevolence and guidance of the One who created me.
I pray. I read scripture. I love God. And sure I’m totally on board with His leadership when everything is running along just fine. I’m a happy passenger. But I hit a random bump in the road, or find myself in unfamiliar territory and oh boy, I’m gonna grab that wheel from the Almighty. It’s nothing short of a herculean task for me to surrender to His infinite love and trust. I think we all struggle with this to some degree, but when you tend toward the controlling end of the personality spectrum (my hand is raised real high right now) it can seem downright impossible. Maybe some of you out there can relate.
“Pray, hope, and don’t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.”—St. Padre Pio
Recently, I overheard a snippet of a private conversation between strangers. While it could technically be classified as eavesdropping, I’m certain God didn’t mind my listening in. In fact, though the conversation was not expressly intended for my ears, witnessing the seemingly chance encounter may have been part of God’s plan. Looking back, he was leading me to a spiritual breakthrough. In other words, even God can bring good out of my inclination for being nosy.