I did it! I actually really did the audacious thing I’d dared myself to do. And I have bodily proof.
But let me back up. This month is
a milestone in my life. I turn 80. I always thought 80 was really old. I’m now having
to reconsider my criteria of what makes old. At any rate, it’s a special time.
As I was thinking about how I could celebrate in a new way, to mark a new phase
of life, the idea of getting a tattoo flew into my brain. Seemingly from
nowhere. This has never been an ambition. In fact, I remember a time in my
younger years when, to my mind, only Hell’s Angels and juvenile delinquents got
tattoos. Scary tattoos at that.
Maybe it’s because my daughter and
several of my granddaughters have recently gotten tattoos. And they are
lovely—not scary at all. Works of art actually.
But at 80? That was Hal’s reaction
when I passed the idea by him. He was not at all positive. Not because he
thought it was wrong but because he thought it might be dangerous. Cause
excessive bleeding. Bring on infection with life-changing consequences. Well—I
might be exaggerating a little, but he definitely was dubious. But Hal is
generous enough to respect me as I work through my own decisions.
I did a little research on tattoos
and the elderly and found that it was not widely recommended, but that it
depended on the older person involved. It might be fine if the person were in
good health and had a fairly firm patch of skin on which to do the job. But
even then, recovery might take more time. The mention of recovery gave me
pause.
But I didn’t pause for long. I
consulted with my granddaughter Alandra as she had several tattoos and would
know how to go about it. And she would know who could do it safely and
artistically. She responded with excitement, thought it was a cool 80th
birthday present, offered to find a place and then accompany me. Plus, she
would get a tattoo at the same time. That really got me going.
It happened on Saturday, just a
few days ago. We made a day of it. Alandra and her boyfriend Ben took Hal and me
out to lunch at an Italian restaurant. Good food and great conversation, a time
to get to know Ben better. Then a little later the same afternoon, Alandra
picked me up and we drove to the home of a friend who is an experienced tattoo
artist. She works from her living room. The atmosphere was peaceful and homey,
the music soft.
We decided I should go first, to
get the nervous part over quickly. The first task was to find the right place.
I had already chosen the lower part of my left leg. I found a spot that was
firm, with no varicose veins anywhere near. It took a while to find exactly the
right position, but since it was “forever” that was important. Then came the
actual tattooing. It hurt, but no more than I had imagined. Alandra got me
reminiscing about how Hal and I got together and that helped pass the time.
It took about 40 minutes, and then it was Alandra’s turn. We had decided to get matching tattoos, which made the whole adventure that much more fun.
I chose a daisy and Alandra found
just the right image. The daisy is one of my favorite flowers because it seems
so happy. It’s beautiful in its own small way. Also, it’s rather ordinary and
common. You can find wild daisies in so many places. That increases its value
to me. The daisy was our wedding flower.
Long ago I named my vocation as a writer “to discover and express the grace of God hidden in the ordinariness of life.” The daisy symbolizes this.
Now I’m processing the whole adventure. Why did I want a tattoo in the first place? So that I could seem cool to my grandkids? No, not really, although that’s a fun consequence. To defy age, to say that turning 80 is no big deal? No, I don’t think so. I’m trying to embrace my age and the stage of life I happen to be in. I’m trying to see all the positives, although I’m not always successful. I have my bad days. My body complains more than it used to. But still, this is where I am and I am determined to make the best of it.
Part of why I did it is simply
because I love beauty and art in its many expressions. And because I love
daisies.
But more than that, I think it’s
because I desired to do something totally new, to take a risk, to do something
unlike what I’ve ever even considered doing before. “Sing a new song,” the
psalmist says. In Christ, all things become new, the Apostle Paul tells us.
God’s mercies are new every morning; that’s Jeremiah. New means refreshing,
invigorating, creative. I’m asking the Spirit of God to do something new in my
life this year, something that goes way beyond getting a tattoo.
We’re never too old for new.
Yes! to the movements of the
Spirit!
Yes! to tattoos!
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