When you think of the word, jubilee, do you think of the number 50?

I do!

Earlier this year when I thought about both my husband and I turning 50, I thought it would be awesome to throw one big bash for the both of us.

But God.

But then I asked myself, why would you want to do this to yourself?

You’re too obsessive, you’re too picky and on the day of, you’ll be so stressed, you won’t even enjoy it.

And besides, there is no way Shawn will want to be Sonny to your Cher so you can lip-sync, I Got You Babe for your guests.

Dead serious about that one, but I will tuck it away for now.

So, after I crossed out throwing 50th bash x2 off my to do list, I wrote in, Nashville trip.

I have always wanted to go to Nashville, Tennessee. I love positive country music; I love southern gospel music from way back when and I can even handle a little bluegrass.

I asked Shawn what he thought about us celebrating our 50ths in Nashville and he was all for it.

Around a week and a half later after this conversation, he found out that his work would be having their leadership conference in Nashville!

I asked him if he would like to kill two birds with one stone or if he would like us to go at a different time to celebrate.

Smart kid, he wants to kill two birds with one stone…

Several years ago, I remember a co-worker who was probably in his late 20s, early 30s telling me that he just wanted to make it to 50 and that he didn’t care what happened after that.

I was stunned that this quite capable young man had such low expectations.

I mean, as a Caregiver he brought a briefcase to work every time he worked and yes, I often wondered what exactly he had in it, but I never asked.

Wonder if he’ll change his mind once he hits 50 like the Holocaust survivor did whose documentary I watched recently.

The Holocaust survivor said that when she was a young teen and in a concentration camp, there was a ” selection “.

A selection meant you stripped naked and walked in front of the selector and the selector would look you over to see if you looked/were fit enough to stay alive. If not, you were sent to your death.

This Holocaust survivor goes on to say that during this particular selection, there was a lady who was around 60 years old who wanted ” to live “.

The younger Holocaust survivor says that she thought this lady was old and that she should basically give up her spot to a younger person.

Many years later when the younger Holocaust survivor herself turned 60, she thought of the lady she thought was old.

She says that she understood now why the lady at the concentration camp still wanted to live because now that she was 60 years old herself, she still felt young…

And so, Shawn is 50 now and Lord willing my turn will come in September and you wanna know what? I’m feeling like that one Carpenters’ song, We’ve Only Just Begun!

~missy salcido wead