Vintage

It seems I am always going back through some of my previous writings of years gone by (now, how is that for sounding ancient) and finding poems, stories, or something that never quite made it to the publisher. This morning, I found some of my written thoughts on the process of growing older. I must have written it quite a few years ago because I mention my almost-grown-up son and Matt has been grown-up for several years and has children of his own. Anyway, this article is appropriate for today and I hope you enjoy it.

Vintage

Growing older? Aren’t we all? But don’t worry about it. Relax and enjoy those years.

As I get closer to that milestone called Middle Age, I wonder why I used to dread it. What did my teenage years and my twenties do for me that was so great? I had a lot of insecurity. I worried a lot–what to do with my life, how I looked to other people, what decision should I make? And, although I loved caring for my family, I didn’t have much time to call my very own.

While some people wish they were eighteen again, I most emphatically don’t! It took a lot of trials, struggles, and growth to get where I am and I like myself better than I did when I was younger. To me, life is a constantly growing, changing process. If I am afraid to try new things, think new thoughts, I am like a pond with no inlet and no outlet. I stagnate. I’ve found that the only way I could really grow old is to turn inward and not outward, to be fearful of change.

As I reflect on it, I was older at twenty-one than I am now. My life was governed by other people. If I did certain things, how would it look to others? If I dressed or wore my hair differently, what would people think? I may be a slow learner but I gradually realized that, for the most part, nobody cared. If I like and accept the way I look, others will too.

Some time ago, I remember admiring the paintings of an artist friend. I had always wanted to paint but paints and brushes were expensive and I told myself it would be a waste of money to buy them. Certainly, I was no artist. Two years passed and I bought the coveted  supplies and found that painting is one of the most relaxing, fulfilling activities I’ve ever tried. It’s nice to have my own pictures in my living room.

Never athletic, I was afraid to let go of the hand rail at the skating rink. (This was pretty indicative of my life.) Nowadays, I’m one of those parents who skates with her nearly grownup child. I whiz around on eight wheels, not a polished skater but a happy one.

My first ride in a single-engine airplane, my first try at aerobic dancing, my first story sold to a magazine, all occurred after I had passed my thirtieth birthday. What made the difference? Nothing sudden or spectacular–just a growth process.

God gives us life and it is a precious gift. Are we going to be so frightened by its awesomeness that it overwhelms us? Or are we going to grasp this gift and enlarge it into a beautiful experience? As we grow, change, and relax, these added years are a wonderful, delightful time–the very best years of our lives.

–Blanche Day Manos