The most telling signs of old age is not caring anymore. Getting older, things get pretty good and easy-going. Seasoned. Done well!
Blah! Humbug! to the younguns who-know-everything— that dictate to you how to think and how to grow. That’s according to their own book of knowsall. I laugh, of course, because their ideas are quite funny.
Does it annoy your kids when you talk in your normal crackling old voice, “I remember when…” ? (Lolz!) The ones I care about (see I still care?), I store ’em—the good stuff– to memory. They’re the good memories that keep hopes, strengths and dreams alive!
That’s the joy of getting old. Memories are a good thing. It’s perfectly normal to welcome them in our thoughts, in the halls of our perfectly normal minds.
There’s happiness about being free, older and surprisingly, prettier. Because we can. And, I can be– quite uncaring. Not to fuss about anything is the old motto we used to tell our own kids when they were little.
Why do we even train our kids to care much? When in fact, we knew that when they get older, they would care lesser and lesser? Mind boggling. Truth is, we didn’t know that fact about old-age back then. So, all good.
Seriously, not-care-so-much is a normal, logical response to getting ‘old’. It’s a response meaning: “I’ve arrived”, “Done that. Been there. Suck it up. Learn from me.” You know, about the things we worried about when we were young-er.
After years of putting off own goals, dreams, plans for others– kids and hubby– it’s time to enjoy our own dreams and purposes God designed mothers to enjoy. I’m sure that’s The Plan God reserved for mothers who have given their lives put on hold– for their kids. Enjoyment doesn’t always surround mystifying grandkids. That’s only a small part golden-years of life.
Doing something say– a long trip, cruise, graduate studies, inexpensive vacation house in the county, learning to dance, learning Krav, publish books, keeping the old house, let-me-be in peace, earn money to help someone close to your heart— anything you put into your bucket list is awesome!
I’m beginning to rock in this time of my life. No, not rock-the-boat kind of rock. Well, maybe. But that’s a problem I don’t carry anymore. In the normal, logical sense of maturity. There’s no time for sulking. We’ve got a normal life ahead, deary old readers; and, to you, young readers, while you still care and worry so much.
I assure you, you don’t have to worry about dear old-momma-old-wifey. She’ll be just fine! And is happy. Memories are perfectly normal. And it’s all good to hold on to them— write them, sketch them, paint them beautifully the way you see them.
Well, old friend, you may be alone. Lovely Christians misjudge you. This path you have dreamed of finally taking? It doesn’t matter, really, about what they try to make up or paint old mothers like you and me.
All our lives, we’ve been around wonderful, intelligent, respectful little kids and a perfectly perfect husband. In their eyes, we always fall short. That’s okay. Can’t win ’em all. But who cares anymore? It’s either he cares little or cares a big deal about how you feel, that makes him true to himself.
So, if to anyone who believes that getting old is one foot to ‘the grave‘; you think that’s normal?! Not ‘cuckoo doodledee? They’d better have their minds reconsidered (checked) before God, who gave you your whole being– mind, body, heart and soul– for an important purpose.
To me, old friend, being old is to do His purposes– the reason why God is keeping you alive– it’s to live it, for goodness sake! You are meant to be wiser, happy and blessed in life and do good. And enjoy life while you’re at it.
There is time for everything. Hold on to those mem’ries. And now, dear old friend, we’re in it! Let’s walk it.