I had a birthday this past week which began my last year of being in my 50s. I’m not particularly upset about that or ashamed of my age. I figure I’m blessed to have lived so long. I had a cousin, Lori, who died of breast cancer when she was 40, leaving behind two preschool girls. When I feel down about getting old, I think of Lori and how she would love to change places with me. I got to see my children grow up and see what kind of people they became. I’m certain she wishes she’d had that privilege as well.
My daughter and I took clogging lessons from a lady in her 70s. She told me that she didn’t mind getting older. Every decade came with new opportunities and challenges and it was all exciting. Years later, I went to her 60th anniversary party. She and her 90-year-old husband danced all afternoon at the party. What an inspiration!
The worst part of getting old can be summed up in two words: it hurts. Some days are worse than others, but every day, some spot somewhere pokes my nervous system and says “Remember me? I want you to think about me all day. Remember how you used to turn knobs with no pain? No more!” Years and years ago, an old doctor told my mom, “Pain is good. It’s how you know you’re alive.” I’d rather wake up and take a deep breath of fresh air. That’s the best indication that I’m alive. But no matter what, I am thankful and happy about having another birthday. It means the Lord has blessed me with another year and I am always thankful for the Lord’s blessings.