Jamie PrinceIf you’d told me twenty years ago that I’d like myself better now than then, my younger self would’ve shrugged off that comment without another thought. Grays are taking over my hairline, I have put on pounds, and it seems that there’s a never-ending discovery of “something new” that’s weird or off with my physiology. Yet, I am happy. Lump this in with the mysteries of this journey we call life. As it turns out, getting old and growing older are distinctly different. While the former references the inevitable decay of the body and/or how many years it’s been since we were born, the latter is a reflection of the gifts of aging. (Spoiler alert: There actually are blessings in growing older.)
I’ve become a morning person.
Never, and I mean never, did I think I’d embrace the early morning, much less be excited for it. I couldn’t make it to a 7:30 am Marine Science class in college (but seriously, what was I thinking?), and after having children, you’d have thought I’d be a pro at mornings but all I felt for years and years were the hallmarks of sleep deprivation. Now, thanks to shifting hormones, treatment for my sleep disorders, and new habits taking root, I wake insanely early most mornings and relish this newfound time in the quiet. Jesus shows us an example of waking up early to pray, and some mornings I do that. Other times, I get a jump on the day’s to-do list. And sometimes, like today, I’m blessed with ideas and inspirations that get sifted, strategized, and sometimes see the light of day, proving to me that dreams have no expiration date.
I’m calmer.
Outwardly, I’m not sure that many people knew that the younger me was always spinning on the inside. It took me many moons to realize at what a high frequency I ran from sun up past sun down every day, until nine years ago when my body threw in the towel. Illness and brain injury forced me to a screeching halt. Now, looking back, I consider that time a line in the sand for me. Post-2015, despite every reason to freak out, the past decade has shown me, for the most part, that an unhurried life is far more satisfying, even if it’s one that I didn’t choose but was chosen for me. God knows his children, after all, and as harrowing as that journey through the valley of death was, I came out the other side grateful for the downshift.
Giving is more joyful than getting.
Even during seasons when it feels like our family is robbing the coin jar to make the ends meet, I’ve noticed that I’m buoyed by the fulfillment of providing for others. With the exception of becoming a mom and that motherly instinct taking over to want to give all I could to each of my children, my younger self was much more attracted to what I received and desired to get. From the heady feeling of being given awards and accolades within my profession to always wanting the next thing with little thought of the true cost (in money, time, and other finite resources), I suppose my change of heart illustrates the old adage that we spend the first half of our lives building and the second half of our lives giving away. I have a rule of thumb that I’ve tried to pass along to the children, and it goes like this: If you absolutely love it, get it. Otherwise, unless it’s a necessity, move on. Now I’m enjoying a time when I can look around in nearly every room in my house and, despite the messes, I’m surrounded by things that I cherish. I’d only add to that: Don’t look to others for things only God can provide.
Forgiveness comes a lot easier.
You don’t get through the booby traps of midlife in one piece without learning, to some degree, to let things go. Up until recent years, there was a part of me that desperately wanted to fix people. Now I realize that that’s a pretty selfish and egotistical way to live. Who am I to know what others truly need for their own healing? And who am I to think I could provide those things! I have a hard enough time managing my own issues much less the complexities of all the humans in my orbit. With time I’ve come to accept that God really does carry everyone’s burdens, and so I practice giving mine over so that I may be healthier and, in turn, help those around me through forgiveness, practicing good boundaries, and realizing that it’s not all up to me.
I’m learning to trust that all will be okay in the end.
Trust has never come easily for me. In fact, it’s been one of the most elusive holds of the enemy over me nearly my entire life. Without dragging out all the dirty laundry, I’ll just say that my adolescent and young adult years were a time of moral quandary, leading all of my relationships virtually nowhere past surface level (including with myself). Through much hardship, true joy, and a lot of work, the iron curtain between me and the world has slowly been dismantled. For the first time, I feel that I live from my authentic self, and believe me, that’s no small feat! The secrets to my success in this area are mostly what you’d guess, but honestly, the one that everyone can benefit from knowing is a little breath prayer that I learned from a pastor I admire. He said that, when he couldn’t find or was at a loss for words with God, he’d whisper, “I trust you, Lord. I trust you.” Believe it or not, that has changed my life ten times over, and all for the better.
I guess the moral of the story here is that getting older doesn’t have to equate to life’s getting worse. Growing older can be a time of liberation in Christ, a season of reaping a harvest of some of the fruits of the Spirit sown in prayer throughout the ups and downs of days past, and a period of true fulfillment found in gracious thankfulness.
