Why do I bother to watch movies on airplanes? They always make me cry. I was enjoying our flight to Hawaii perfectly well up to that second movie.

First, I watched Harriet Tubman, and I didn’t cry. But I was inspired to keep doing the work I do, helping people recover from abortion and sexual trauma through our non-profit activity. I was also encouraged in my faith, that my mission is actually from God, and I shouldn’t let peoples’ comments slow me down, hinder or halt my work all, as I’ve often wondered and questioned. Am I doing this all for myself? Is this really from God? Yes, thank you Jesus, I believe again that it is.

Then I took my headphones off and played a round of cribbage with my husband, and I actually won, which rarely happens. So then I thought I’d enjoy another movie. I think I’ll be fine this time, not like my last flight to Mexico when I cried over the movies Tolkien and Breakthrough. I’d heard that the movie Judy was really good, and I love old movies, so I chose that one to watch.

Well, long story short, I was fine until the very end when she sings Over the Rainbow to the audience for the last time, and then the credits roll. I was already silently crying from the song when the rest of the story was displayed against the black screen in white letters. “Judy died six months after her London concerts. She was 47.”

47. That’s how old my mom was when she died in a house fire.

47. That’s how old I’m turning this summer, I think. Wait, math, I’m emotional, is that correct? I need a minute. I get up to use the lavatory. I sit on the toilet and slowly work the math in my brain because I left my phone (and the calculator) in my seat pocket. Yes, it’s right, I AM turning 47 this summer.

And then I can’t hold back the tears, and then the sobs rush up right behind saying us too, us too, here we come. What the heck? I’m on a plane flying to Hawaii for an 8-day vacation for goodness sake, about to have a fabulous time with my husband and my twin sister . . . who is also turning 47 this summer. Oh the sobs, here they come again. Breathe. Breathe. It’ll be ok, breathe. Wipe your face. Blow your nose. Go sit down. It’ll be ok.

I return to my seat where my husband is engrossed in a game on his phone. Phew, no need to explain my face at this moment. I should say this out loud to him, but later. Time to watch another movie. I also heard great things about Peanut Butter Falcon…

A movie about a journey, and all the ups and downs along the way. That’s certainly been my life. And just as I embraced the moment my children turned 10 years 5 months and 16 days old, the exact age I was when my mom died, I will embrace the moment I turn 47 years 7 months and 8 days old, the exact age my mom was when she died. As I looked upon my children reaching that golden age I realized that every moment after that was an opportunity to see what life should have been like with my mom in it. And I relished each day with my children through their teen years as most people complained about the teens years of their children.

So I will also relish the opportunity to live life beyond 47, however it may look. I’ve already survived cancer, two house fires, and many other extreme difficulties of life. I will take one day at a time, grateful for every day that I wake up in the morning. And I’ll keep watching movies on airplanes, even if they make me cry.