Feeling my age
One morning recently as I drove my 5 year old grandson to school, he asked how old I am. ‘Sixty,’ I replied, ‘but I don’t really feel that old.’
‘You look that old though,’ he cheerfully replied.
‘How can you tell?’, I asked curiously.
‘Well, your hair. It’s got lots of white. And your skin in kind of saggy. On your face and your neck.’
I took a deep breath and thanked him for telling me. It was hard not to protest. To say that my skin is not that saggy, and that I still have lots of dark hair – that I can’t possibly really look 60.
As I have reflected on that conversation, it strikes me again how skewed our view of aging is. If I described to my grandson the ways that I could tell his age, the ways that his body has changed in the last 5 years, he would be thrilled or curious. I wouldn’t be complimenting him if I told him that he still looked like a toddler or a baby. Why is it that I had to stop myself from feeling sad that he can see the signs of my age in my body?
The glory of young men is their strength, grey hair is the splendour of the old.
Proverbs 20:29
It’s hard to accept that grey hair is the splendour of the old. I have chosen not to dye my hair, partly out of a reluctance to commit to that level of personal maintenance, and partly out of a desire to embrace my age, rather than try to hide it. But I don’t look in the mirror and see it as my splendour!
I know better than most that being sixty is a privilege not granted to everyone. My mum didn’t even get to see fifty, and there were times when it looked like I wouldn’t either.
Turning sixty in August was a milestone that I celebrated with dear friends and family who have shared life’s journey with me, from uncles and aunts and father who have known me since birth, friends and family I met in my childhood and youth and young adulthood, through to people I have only met in the last few years and my five little grandchildren. It was wonderful to gather them together in one place, and thank them for the blessing that they have been to me.
I have still found sixty a hard pill to swallow though. I can’t fool myself that I am still young. I can’t pretend that there isn’t more life behind me than there is in front of me.
I need God to remind me that there is splendour and blessing in growing old. I need to let go of the fear I feel when I contemplate being elderly, and possibly frail and dependent. I need to trust God, that the normal journey of life, from dependency to independence to dependency is part of the way that he draws us closer to himself.
I don’t know that I have ever heard a theology of aging. I’d love to know your thoughts. Please share in the comments.

Hi, I'm Chris!
I'm an Australian Christian author, blogger and speaker who has published one book - Diamonds from the King - which is a book of stories from my life of ways that God has worked to bring precious diamonds from suffering, disappointment and confusion.
I'm a mum, granny and wife and I love spending time with my grown kids and my four and counting grandkids, but my greatest passion is to get to know God better, and to share his wonder with the world.
Hi. I am 3 years a head of you. I love my age, my looks are changing and that is ok, realy thankful for clothes😄. What bugs me is that I am not as strong as I used to be and my body ackes sometines. But I remind myself on my sisters words of wisdom, “It is now we live”. So let us live life to the full eaven it we need a few more stops along the way to rest.