In recognition of the fact that I’m a year older,
here’s a look at the bright side of aging:
1. Age
has a way of tearing away at your vanity and self-consciousness. When I was in
high school, I couldn’t go to the mailbox without wearing makeup. Now I spend
whole days without it, and without giving it a thought. I recently completed
two-and-a-half hours of parent-teacher conferences, only to meet up with a
friend, on my way out the door, who kindly told me I had a booger dangling from
my nose. (Thank you, kind friend; you know who you are!) At 24, I would have
been horrified. At 44, I blew it off, literally and figuratively.
2. Age
has given me the ability to just say no. I know who I am. I know what I do and
don’t do. I know I don’t go to home-based-sales parties. I know what I spend
money on and what I don’t. I know when it’s good to be stretched and try
something new and when it’s not. I’m not nearly so concerned with being left
out as I used to be, so “no” comes quicker, easier, and without a made-up
excuse. Very few things are as liberating as the ability to say no.
3. The
older I get, the older my kids get, and older kids rock! Ten years ago, driving
in the car was an act of survival. Armed with car seats, pacifiers, Cheerios,
sippy cups, picture books, hard animals, melted crayons, and “Joshua Fought the
Battle of Jericho” CDs, getting down the road often felt like an epic battle. Now
that we’re all older, we have lively car discussions over what constitutes
historical fiction and why being the President is the hardest job in the world.
My car is still a mess and fights still break out, but I savor the driving
moments more than dreading them. There are very few minutes I don’t enjoy with
older kids.
4. The
things of earth really do draw strangely dim the older I get. (And not just
because the eyesight’s going.) Compared to my twenties and thirties, I care so
much more about the things of God and so much less about the things of this
world. At 20, I wanted to be famous. At 44, I want to love others well. I used
to want to be where the action was. Now I just want to be where God is. I used
to say, “I sure hope Jesus doesn’t come back until I’ve done all the things I
want to do. Now I say, “Oh, Jesus, come! Come now!” This world is losing its
allure by the day, and heaven seems less scary, less unknown, less “out there”
than ever before.
5. And
if none of these things is enough, at least I’m one step closer to the senior menu at
Denny’s and discounted lift tickets.
