Earlier this month, Sue Burpee, writer of High Heels in the Wilderness, wrote a very thought provoking post about the feelings of sadness and dissatisfaction that she was experiencing as she contemplated the realities of getting older (she’s 66). It obviously resonated with many women as it generated a vast number of heartfelt comments. In fact, it struck such a chord with Frances, over at Materfamilias Writes, that she responded with this post on her blog. Again, the comment section exploded with women in their 60s, 70s, and beyond expressing feelings of worry and despair as they faced their own mortality. Many wrote of feeling that time was running out and one of Sue’s readers likened it to falling into an abyss. Some wrote of physical decline or the fear of losing their spouse. Others were already alone. Some mentioned lack of purpose, having nothing good to look forward to, or feeling invisible to those around them. There was also an acknowledgement by many that the pandemic had robbed them of valuable time that they’d never get back.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those two posts and the comments that they generated. I keep asking myself why I don’t share the feelings that so many women expressed so poignantly. I do lament time lost to the pandemic, but I’m just three months short of 70 and rather than feeling down about it, I’m excited! I’m already thinking about how I want to celebrate that milestone. But why? Why don’t I feel the way they do?
I think that there are three reasons.
The first was a major shift in perspective that happened almost ten years ago. I’ve written before about the fact that I spent the whole year that I was 59 fretting about turning 60. It sounded so old! How had I got there so quickly? Then came 60 and it wasn’t so bad after all, but before I turned 61, I was diagnosed with cancer and within a year, a second unrelated one. If you’ve been following my blog for very long, you know that the past decade has brought a number of other diagnoses as well as surgeries, treatments, and medications. Now, still with one incurable cancer, but stable and feeling 100%, I’ve learned that every day is a gift. Nine years ago, I had no reason to think that I would make it to 70. Now it feels like a victory!
The second reason that I feel optimistic about the future is the faith that sustained me through all the ups and downs of the past decade and for many years before that. I, who in my childhood and young adult years had an abnormal fear of death, of disappearing into nothingness and no longer existing, found peace with that when I finally cried out to God in desperation and asked Him to remove my fear. That was forty years ago and to this point, it has never returned. I don’t pretend to know what life beyond the grave will be like, but I firmly believe that it does go on and that those of us who have a personal relationship with the Creator will continue in His presence. That’s all I really need to know. That may sound naive or foolish to those who don’t share my faith, but that’s not surprising. Scripture says that that will be so. “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18
Perhaps the main reason that I’m not burdened by the dark thoughts and feelings that seem to plague so many of my fellow seniors is that my life has purpose. Hubby and I fairly recently gave up a volunteer position that was beginning to become too physically taxing, but as my father always said, there’s no end to the things that you can do in retirement as long as you don’t need to be paid. I’ve edited almost 750 Kiva loans since I took on that role early last year. When I was younger, I led a ladies Bible study for more than twenty years. I didn’t expect to find myself doing that again in my late 60s, but I just wrapped up my second year back in that role and I look forward to continuing in the fall. In addition, I have a leadership position with an online women’s ministry and I’ve just been accepted into another role that will put my writing skills to good use. Nine years ago when I was looking death in the face, I certainly didn’t anticipate new beginnings at age 70! Clearly God isn’t finished with me yet!
So what does living a life of significance really mean? Significance can be defined as “being worthy of attention” or “meaningful”. It begins with the word “sign” for a reason. A thing’s significance is a sign of its importance.
Following Augustine 