Someone once said “getting old is not for wimps.” As I approach my eighth decade of life, I can wholeheartedly agree with the statement.

Thoughts about it started with my first warning about old age: “old people do not regularly get a full night’s sleep.” I used to sleep straight through the night, but for the last several years I am usually up at least twice every night and sometimes four or five times. Now it feels like my night’s sleep is a series of two hour naps. When I first heard of this change in sleep habits, I thought I would not like it. However, I can honestly report that I have adapted easily to this and accept it as my normal sleep pattern. 

Another change has been the recurring difficulty of remembering details I want to share with another person. I come to the point of including the name of a central person, thing, or place and I can’t seem to pull it up at the right moment. It’s frustrating, but I am learning from other people around my age that memory lapses are happening to all of us. So, rather than feel bad or inadequate, I just laugh it off. And, the good part of this is, sometimes the word I couldn’t recall comes to me later. This recently happened when I was with my brothers and I finally remembered the name I couldn’t think of ealier and I just blurted the name out even though it was no longer a part of the conversation. I think we older people are in the habit of giving each other grace with some of these things happening to us.

One of the truly hard things, however, is people who were a part of my life dying. I get used to people being a part of my life, never imagining at some point they will leave it. When I lived in upstate New York there was a man I used to see and greet who seemed larger than life. I never imagined that he would someday not be around, until it happened. On a different occasion, I was talking to a man older than me who casually mentioned that he didn’t expect to be around much longer. That was a jarring statement.  I recently heard Jerry Seinfield say in a monologue that all the young people we see around us are “our replacements.” That too gives me pause. Someday I’ll not be here.

The color of my hair has gone from reddish brown to white and the top is disappearing like melting snow. My wife recently took a picture of me holding our little grandson, August, and I was shocked at how bald I am.  I still have enough hair in the front to brush so when I gaze at my reflection, I don’t see the vast open spaces in the back. And I’m not alone in the changes. I see other people my age gaining weight and losing hair. I see formerly handsome and beautiful faces look more serious and weathered. Then there are the discussions when we older folks get together and talk about our physical issues. Someone recently humorously referred to these talks as “organ recitals.” It’s true. When I was young I thought such conversations were boring. Now I find myself needing to talk to friends and family about the changes in my body. The physical changes in my appearance are indicators of the changes going on in my thinking, emotions, and overall feelings. 

The last thing I will mention is my loss of desire to travel. I am quite content to spend each day at home going through my normal routines: exercising, Bible study, getting together with friends, having Date Night each Friday with my wife, worshipping in church with friends. I am content with my life the way it is. When I was young, I wanted to travel to different countries and learn about other cultures. This is no longer the case. Some of this may be due to my physical challenges and part of it may come from knowing where everything is and what I have to do each day.  Change is difficult.

Reading this, someone might think that I am depressed. I am not, actually I am content. I am finding that my mind and heart are resilient and I have been able to adjust and accept these changes as challenges and opportunities to grow and mature.

Getting old is a natural part of life too and I can honestly say I am enjoying it. We humans are great at adapting to change. However, I believe that old age is an individual experience. Not everyone has the same time of it. For me, faith in God and an openness to His plan for my life have made a great difference for me. I see signs of His love and care which give me the ability to power through and accept the many changes, if  not as they come then a little later on. One place where I find comfort and assurance written with such clarity and force in our Catechism put together by Christians in Heidelberg Germany which is accepted in my faith tradition.  

Question One: What is your only comfort in life and in death?

Answer. That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.