Savoring Sixty

A mere 10 years ago, my 50th birthday slipped by, practically unnoticed in the hubbub of the daughter's impending wedding.  A year later, said daughter planned a surprise soiree to mark #51 where I was blessed by the presence and the presents of dear friends and family who came to celebrate with me.  This year, I've crossed over to a new decade. Oh. My.


To mark it, the husband and the daughter pulled off the most amazing surprise, the night before Easter at our favorite place with our favorite people.  What an amazing event and how blessed I was! It was a slice of wonderful.  My heart was so full!  But, after the party, comes the growing older part…

Were the fifties fabulous? I'd say so.  There was  a major home remodel, a  job change, a corneal transplant,  new ministry opportunities, two beautiful new granddaughters, multiple trips to places near  and far as well as the trip of a lifetime to Italy with the husband. Not that it was all rainbows and light…in the same time frame, loss and sorrow visited, too.  We lost all four of our parents in this decade, rendering us middle aged orphans.  And that feels very odd, indeed.

Still. It's been a pretty great ten years.

As I contemplated sixty, there was no regret--no wishing I were 22 or 32 or 42 or even 52.  I am not unaware that I am growing older.  Lord knows. with the ridiculous amount of magnification needed to put on my make-up every morning,  I can clearly see the lines and crevices on my once taut and dewy face. Every. One. Of. Them.

I stopped coloring my hair more nearly five years back and  gave up high heels in lieu of flats for the most part over the last two or three.  I've seen a chiropractor with some regularity for various ailments, from my back to my shoulders to my ankles.  I conquered anemia and now am low on calcium and a little high on the cholesterol.  Yes,  a little schizophrenic, I know.   I have repeatedly lost the same 15 pounds but, it keeps finding me.  I do find that a little irritating, I confess.

I look back at photos when I was in my 20's and 30's.  I didn't know it then, but, today they'd call me "hot". Who knew?  As a younger woman, I was far more apt to compare myself unfavorably to others vs knowing  that I had something unique and precious to offer, just by being myself, the one created exactly as she was intended to be.  Additionally, I was living for myself, for the pleasures of this life  vs living a life with the purpose that centers me today.

I guess you could say, for me, life really did "begin" at 40.  Or, perhaps, it began anew.  Reconciliation of a marriage, a return to the West Coast, sharing the responsibility of raising a daughter, navigating the trials and tribulations of said marriage and rebuilding a life together through all the perilous curves and detours  along the way.  To say it was often tumultuous would be a gross understatement.  And yet, I knew that I had been called by the One who first called me His own. And so, I persevered, often on my knees, always trusting  that He was faithful despite my weakness.

Thus began the road home. A road littered with both joy and disappointment,  sorrow and  laughter, anger and  kindness, smiles and tears,  but, also a stubborn tenacity.  A road with mile markers called faith, hope and love. Along the way, love grew, prayers were answered, tears cleansed and wounds were healed. We pressed on in faith.  We grew in grace and it was good.

So, when I look back, I wouldn't trade my flats for those beautiful heels, nor the grey for the striking brunette I used to be…not  the extra pounds I've gained for the curves now blurred. I wouldn't trade the life I have, the faith I've gained, the wisdom gleaned or the contentment I feel for the idol known as youth. It's a facade I no longer feel compelled to keep up. I surrender.  I am in a new place, a better place, the right place.  I am not looking back with regret for that which has passed, but, instead,  forward to that which I know will be immeasurably richer and fuller.  It already is.  An unexpected gift. Yes, contentment.

I embrace sixty. I acknowledge,without regret, that any sense of control is most certainty  an illusion.  I no longer expect "happily ever after" but treasure every moment of happiness, knowing it comes and it goes.  I rest in the expectation that my God is in control and I am not.   Entering one's seventh decade is a reminder that life is speeding by and that some traveling partners have, and will continue to, fall by the wayside. There are no guarantees that those I love will continue to walk alongside me or, for that matter, that I will be here to travel with them,  come tomorrow.  With this passing of time, sorrow and loss is inevitable.

Heaven is my destination and I'm headed there, sooner or later. Mostly, I hope it's later, but,  I realize I don't get to choose, when or how. My goal is to be ready when He calls.   For now, as the apostle Paul said, in his letter to the Philippians,  " I press on...forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.  I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."  I trust (as Paul continued in chapter three) "our citizenship is in Heaven…we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like His glorious body.." Now that's something to look forward to.

Yes. I am pressing on, delighted to be at this stage of this journey He has planned for me. Grateful for every mountain and every valley, every struggle and every joy.  All have been markers along the way that brought me to this place.  And it's been a beautiful life thus far. A treasure.

So. Very. Grateful.

Getting Old Isn't For Sissies...

You know the old adage; if you think you're humble, that's a sure sign you're not. Yet, as I grow older, I find myself being humbled with increasing frequency. Today I had a couple of experiences that reminded me how far I have fallen.

I've never hidden my age. I've never cared who knew how many years I've been alive. Heck, I let nature take its course and stopped coloring my hair a year ago. I embraced the silver. I've always felt energetic and happy and reasonably attractive. I've never considered myself a raving beauty, but, one who knew how to make the best of what she had to work with.

So, I went to the gym this morning. I haven't been going as faithfully because of an injury and physical therapy, so, I was struggling-feeling really lame...having a hard time keeping up wasn't the half of it. I'd left the house with rain coming down and a chill in the air, so, I'd pulled a long sleeved shirt over my sports bra. Big mistake. Within 5 minutes of starting the class, I realized I was going to have a genuine melt down if I didn't remove the shirt. The question was clear. Would I rather die from my own personal summer, or show my marshmallow stomache to every woman in the class? I swallowed hard and removed my shirt, tying it around my waist in hopes of camoflauging my puffiness. It didn't work. I continued the workout, trying to avoid my reflection, but, acknowledging the obvious-- that the body that once got whistles and second looks, is aging and out of shape. The mirror doesn't lie.

I was reminded of the question oft asked in email questionairres, "which part of your body do you like best?" I realized there wasn't one. Not my legs, which have too much cellulite, nor my arms which I inherited from my Grandmother...Certainly not my waist, once small nor my stomache, once flat. No. This body ain't what it used to be.

If that little experience wasn't humbling enough, later this afternoon, a young woman friend from church came by to take some photos at my house. I had volunteered to help her with a school project by serving as a model for some portraits. We had a some great conversation while she took candid shots over the span of a couple of hours. Tonight she posted them on Facebook and once again, I was confronted with the truth. Brace yourself! I am no longer 26. I know that seems obvious, and, of course, I already knew it, but, there was the vivid proof, in living color, for all the world to see. Oh my! As I told her, she did a beautiful job, considering what she had to work with: a 56 year old woman who has seen better days.

I guess it's that time...time to recognize that the outer shell is fading...time to realize that inner beauty is the only kind that will endure. All the exercise classes, moisturizers and cosmetics in the world aren't going to turn back the hands of time. And, for me, plastic surgery is just out of the question. There isn't enough money and there aren't enough drugs.

I've always said, I want to grow old with grace. Now I have to live it out. This is where the rubber meets the road. I am painfully aware that I need to spend more time cultivating wisdom, kindness, a gentle and quiet spirit and accepting that I am an aging woman. External beauty doesn't last. Genuine beauty comes from knowing to Whom you belong and accurately reflecting His light into the world around you. That's a reflection I can live with.

"Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, will be praised." ...Proverbs 31:31