This one may surprise you – or may not. Another of my favorite things about my church is its multi-generational composition. With our current lifestyle, we often end up surrounded only by people in our own general age range, but in my church we have people of all ages as well as ethnicities, backgrounds, etc. When my kids were growing up, they had grandparents nearby, but if they had not they would still have had their “church grandparents,” those seasoned family members who have so very much to offer those of us who haven’t walked as far down life’s road.
I’m thinking of a particular couple right now. They’ve been married longer than any other couple I’ve ever known, and still obviously love each other dearly. They are a constant example to those of us who are married, or who want to be married. Their love of God, their understanding of Him as sustainer, their persistently positive outlook on life… These are things developed over time, and I am truly grateful to be a partaker in what they have, what they are.
I was dining with friends, recently, when one of them looked at me and commented that “women our age” have usually settled in and been wearing the same hairstyle for years, but I change mine all the time. She’s right, of course. I’ve had two colors and three cuts since my profile photo was taken last December. Her comment started me thinking, though… Women of our age?
Like most 53-year-old women, I deal with certain age-related issues, but on a practical level I tend to forget I’m 53. I have to remind myself that, age wise, I’m not really my co-workers’ contemporary (speaking of the young mothers on staff). I am ever surprised when my body abruptly tells me it would rather not obey a command. I’ve definitely not “settled in” – be it to a hairstyle or anything else.
The hair? Well, on one level I’m fickle and enjoy change too much to stay with one look for too long. I also appreciate the freshness certain changes bring–though I contrarily fight change in many other areas.
I’m just musing here, really. I’m still smiling and wondering about that phrase: women of our age.
Were I to tell you the story of my life, you’d understand why, unlike some, I’m proud of every birthday. I may forget how old I am and have to do the math (Not a sign of age. That December birthday has always thrown me.), but I proudly admit to every year because I could have been dead more than once…and I’m convinced I’d have ended up in a psych ward somewhere if it weren’t for God…but here I am.
Truly, it may have been through hell and high water, but I’ve made it this far, and I’m still standing.
Yeah, I like being a woman of my age.