Older Than I've Ever Been

I’m turning 65 this week, which of course provides no end of reasons to reflect. Speaking of reflections, did you know the easiest way to look younger is to remove your glasses before looking in the mirror?

At 65, I must acknowledge that I’m no longer middle-aged. How can I be when I’m halfway to 130 and have no intention of living that long?

Lately, fatigue has forced me to say no to several things that I’d dearly love to do, proving that the world is no longer my oyster. Oh well. Never did care for oysters. Lots of positive things can be said about turning 65.

Here are seven.

1.  Old Age Security is the biggest one, of course. I’m looking forward to my first direct deposit, although an actual cheque that I could hold in my wrinkling hands might somehow provide more cause for celebration. I’ll probably splurge on something extravagant like groceries or electricity.

2.  We’re no longer getting calls from life insurance salespeople.

3.  Now we can officially enjoy the senior discounts at restaurants, theaters, and stores without wondering what age they consider “senior.” No question about it. We qualify.

4.  It’s now acceptable to pretend my hearing is going and ignore absolutely everybody. 

5.  I can start new hobbies, like decorating my yard with plastic flowers. Or saving bits of aluminum foil and dryer lint in case my kids want that someday.

6.  I can console myself knowing there are still a few things older than me. The pyramids come to mind.

7.  We can now go to antique shops and visit our old furniture.

Seriously, I’m grateful to have more days behind me than before me here on this planet. Maybe that’s because I agree with C.S. Lewis when he said, “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

Last month I attended the funeral of our friend, Asta, age 93. Family members shared stories about how, with loved ones gathered around her bed expecting her to slip from a coma into eternity any minute, Asta began to pray aloud. For ten full minutes, she prayed for the people in the room. She prayed for healing for others. In her moment of greatest personal need, her heart and mind were focused on others. It occurred to me that such things don’t simply happen on our deathbed unless we have already made them a lifelong habit.

If I’m honest, my lifetime habits will have my deathbed prayers sounding more like, “Help me, help me, help me.”

I know only two things for sure. First, whether I have one day or thirty years left here, my deepest desire is to hear Jesus say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Second, this moment is really all I have. Yesterday’s over. I could be gone by tomorrow.

Those two realities lead to the only logical next question. What does “good and faithful” look like right now, right here, in this moment? It’s not always what we might think at first blush.

A great question to ask at any age.

“For through wisdom your days will be many, and years will be added to your life.” (Proverbs 9:11)

Me at 10 or 11 with one of my kitties.