The Grace of Growing Older

A Quiet Sunday Reflection

I still find it strange sometimes to realize how old I am.

The years seem to have passed quietly, one ordinary day following another, until suddenly I find myself looking back at decades of living, working, raising a family, learning, creating, making mistakes, beginning again, loving, losing, laughing, praying and becoming.

And I realize there is a grace in growing older that I don’t think I understood when I was younger.

Perhaps it comes from having lived long enough to know that time is precious.

Perhaps experience teaches us that not everything deserves our attention, our worry or our energy.

And perhaps faith slowly teaches us that we were never meant to carry everything ourselves.

Growing older certainly doesn’t mean that we have all the answers. If anything, the years can teach us how much we still have to learn.

But they can also bring a certain freedom.

Care for the body God has given you

Our bodies change.

They tire more easily. They ache in places that once never bothered us. They remind us, sometimes rather insistently, that we are human.

There was a time when I might simply have pushed through.

Now I am learning to listen.

Rest when you need to rest. Move when you are able. Eat well. Sleep. Pay attention to what your body is telling you.

Caring for ourselves is not vanity.

Our bodies are not inconveniences to overcome. They are part of the life we have been given.

Rest does not require an apology

There is no virtue in exhausting ourselves simply to prove that we can keep going.

Even Jesus withdrew from the crowds. He sought quiet. He prayed. He rested.

Sometimes the faithful thing to do is not more.

Sometimes it is to stop.

Perhaps growing older gives us permission to understand what should have been obvious all along:

Rest is part of being human.

A peaceful no can protect a meaningful yes

Every yes costs us something.

Time. Attention. Energy.

For much of our lives, we can become accustomed to saying yes because we don’t want to disappoint someone, appear selfish or create conflict.

But loving others does not require saying yes to everything.

Discernment means learning which things are truly ours to do and which are not.

Sometimes a peaceful no protects a much more important yes.

Stop apologizing for reasonable boundaries

Age does not make us infallible.

We should still apologize when we hurt someone. We should still listen when someone corrects us. We should still be willing to change when we discover that we are wrong.

Growing older should never mean becoming unteachable.

But I am also learning that we do not need to apologize for needing rest, protecting our health, saying no, or choosing carefully how we spend the time and energy we have been given.

There is a difference between humility and constantly apologizing for taking care of ourselves.

Not everything deserves a response

This may be one of the great freedoms of getting older.

Not every disagreement requires our participation.

Not every criticism needs an answer.

Not every negative comment deserves space in our hearts.

There are moments when we need to speak. There are things that should be challenged and injustices that should not be ignored.

But wisdom also means discerning when our words might bear fruit—and when we are simply feeding negativity.

Sometimes the wisest response is silence.

Sometimes it is simply to walk away.

Choose carefully what you allow to live in your heart

There will always be negativity in the world.

We don’t have to feed it.

We can choose gratitude over resentment, hope over cynicism, forgiveness over endlessly replaying old wounds.

That doesn’t mean pretending difficult things don’t exist.

Faith is not denial.

It means refusing to allow darkness to become the place where we live.

There is still goodness.

There is still kindness.

There is still beauty.

There is still grace.

Look for it.

Make room for joy

Joy does not have to arrive through extraordinary experiences.

Sometimes joy is very small.

A summer afternoon.
An old song.
Something we create with our hands.
A meal shared with people we love.
A ridiculous joke.
A quiet cup of coffee.
Sunlight coming through a window.
The sound of rain.
A moment when we suddenly realize that we are content simply to be where we are.

These moments can be easy to overlook while waiting for something important to happen.

But perhaps they are the important things.

Small joys are still gifts.

Receive them.

Treasure the people walking beside you

The passing years teach us something else:

Time with the people we love is not unlimited.

So say the words.

Make the call.

Share the meal.

Laugh at the ridiculous things.

Forgive where forgiveness is possible.

Be present.

Love people while they are here to receive it.

We spend so much of our younger lives imagining that there will always be another day.

Growing older teaches us to treasure the one we have.

Leave room for silence

We live in a world constantly asking for our attention.

There is always another notification, another opinion, another problem, another voice telling us what deserves our concern.

Sometimes we need to put everything down.

Prayer does not always require many words.

Sometimes it is enough to sit quietly before God and say:

Here I am.

And sometimes even those words are unnecessary.

We can simply be still.

Remain teachable

Experience gives us perspective, but it should not make us certain about everything.

There is always something more to learn.

Listen to younger people.

Read something unfamiliar.

Ask questions.

Allow yourself to be surprised.

Change your mind when truth requires it.

Wisdom is not knowing everything.

Perhaps wisdom is finally becoming comfortable enough to admit that we don’t.

And keep becoming

This may be what I love most about growing older.

We are not finished.

Faith does not have a retirement age.

God is still forming us.

There are still things to discover.

Still things to create.

Still people to love.

Still forgiveness to give and receive.

Still prayers to pray.

Still moments of beauty waiting to be noticed.

We do not have to become younger versions of ourselves.

We are invited to become more fully who God created us to be.

Perhaps this is part of the grace of growing older.

We begin to understand that we do not have to carry everything.

We do not have to answer everything.

We do not have to prove everything.

We can care for what has been entrusted to us.

We can love the people placed along our path.

We can receive the ordinary joys of each day.

We can remain open to whatever God is still forming within us.

Our time is precious.

Perhaps wisdom is learning to spend less of it on what drains life from us and more of it on what gives life—to ourselves and to others.

And what we cannot carry, we can learn, little by little, to place into the hands of God.

Perhaps that, too, is grace.