47 years old, hmmm?

No matter what you think about Idol-type pseudo-reality shows (does anyone actually believe Simon is not warned about contestants to watch by the producers who preview all comers?), Susan Boyle made the world stop and listen for nearly 3 minutes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deRF9oEbRso

If you haven't seen this moment, or at least heard about it, you must have been eschewing all forms of media for the past few weeks.

All the obvious things have been said - about her looks, about her situation, about what she should and should not do next, about how the world judges cruelly and quickly...

Blah, blah, blah.

None of this is news. There are great artists all over the world who are never discovered, never have the opportunity to step out into the limelight, and never even begin to realize their potential. Some people get that one tiny break, and are able to ride it to stardom. Others snatch at the chance, and fall spectacularly short of their goals. Time will tell where Susan Boyle fits into that huge continuum of talent.

But what struck me to the heart was her age.

My father died at 47. One month before he turned 48.

This year, my brother and my husband turned 49.

This year, I turn 48.

I am not a believer in numerology or mystical significance. But this year has been one of great turmoil. Mostly good. But the ground does not thank the plow for breaking into it and tearing it to pieces, even if that makes it more fertile and complete.

This year - my 47th - has been a great plowing year.

I used to say that I spent the first 25 years of my adult life planting roses, and harvesting vegetables. There is nothing wrong with vegetables - they are more practical and useful than mere flowers. But I mourned the loss of the roses I had planned, could see in my mind's garden.

This year we have pulled up roots and transplanted our family. We have fertilized, weeded, and watered. I wonder what the harvest of my 48th year will look like?

Like Susan Boyle, I am standing on stage, joking with the disbelieving audience, and opening my mouth to sing.

I dreamed a dream. And planted a rose garden. (And mixed a metaphor or 12).

Stay tuned for the harvest.