Embracing Change
A few days ago a friend was in conversation with me who recently celebrated his 60th birthday. He lamented that age was finally catching up to him. “I’m just not the same person I was just four or five years ago,” he said. “I’ve had to stop jogging because the meniscus cartilage in my knee was wearing out.” I listened while he continued for several minutes to complain about the effects of his aging body, effects I knew all too well since I’m over a decade older. When he finally finished giving me his medical history, I put my arm around him and impishly whispered in his ear, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Age does have a way of catching up with us. To be sure, we should not just voluntarily “Let the Old Man In” (see May 28 blog, “Don’t Let the Old Man In”), but sooner or later, no matter how hard we try, the old guy slips in. And when he does, we have only a few choices: we can deny that the Old Man has settled in to live with us, but while we may refuse to acknowledge his presence, everyone else will be able to tell we have a new roomie. In other words, if we follow this course, the only one we fool is ourselves. Or we can learn to laugh with our uninvited roommate and see our age-related infirmities and limitations for what they are—just part of what it means to be a human being and nothing to be ashamed about.
As we grow older, our bodies and mental acuities change. For the better part of life, the changes are advantageous and allow us to grow into our best selves. We move from childhood into teenage years, with minds like sponges, absorbing and interacting with the world around us. Then from the teens we transition to young adulthood, full of optimism and energy, plugging into careers and starting families, often burning the candle at both ends. The middle-age years overtake us before we know it, the kids are off to college, and we hit full-stride in our work and life, still full of zest and ambition.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, old age begins to seep into our bodies and minds and our faculties slowly diminish. There is no set age when this event happens. Some people manage to hold off the inevitable decline longer than others, but everyone begins to feel the effects not long into their 60s. Sometimes the first clue is that we struggle to come up with a word or we fail to remember a person’s name. Our joints may remind us after a morning jog that we are not as young as we once were. We may become more fatigued in the late afternoons. We may even develop health concerns—high blood pressure, heart problems, back trouble, cataracts or glaucoma, diabetes—and doctor visits become more frequent. In fact, research has shown that after age 65 most Americans experience only one year where health problems are not a factor.
There are a myriad of products that promise to restore our cognitive clarity and erase years off our aging bodies. The industries that offer miracle cures to restore our youth are a 250 billion dollar a year illusion. Quite simply, the supplements, powders, and assortment of other fountain of youth remedies cannot keep Father Time at bay.
Of course, genetics play a critical factor in the aging process too, as does the care of our bodies and minds throughout life. Mickey Mantle, the great Yankee outfielder, once said that he would have taken better care of himself had he known he was going to live so long. All humor aside, regular exercise, eating a healthy diet, involvement in a community, and keeping our minds engaged all play a part in helping us slow down the effects of aging. But no matter how hard we try, the Old Man will eventually squeeze through the cracks, and we will come face-to-face with cognitive and physical decline.
I retired in my mid-60s. At the time I felt that I still could be effective in my role as pastor of a church, but I also was aware that my vision for the future was different than it had been not too many years earlier. I thought less about what was ahead and more about what was behind. I had to come to grips that the congregation needed a new voice, new energy, and a new vision—someone who would chart a course 10 or 20 years down the road, not just the next few years. I struggled with the decision for several months, desperately wanting to continue as pastor, feeling like I had still more to contribute, but also keenly aware that my more limited capacities would reduce my effectiveness as a leader and hurt the church I dearly loved. I didn’t want to just hang on; if I couldn’t do the work at the standards I had always set for myself, then it was time to pass the baton to someone else. No one is irreplaceable.
Besides, there would be other ways I could continue to serve—perhaps as an advisor to younger pastors, or maybe I could finally write that book that I had spent the better part of my ministry thinking about. I could volunteer my time or become active in neighborhood activities or meet and befriend people outside the faith community. Retirement would allow my wife and me to pursue avenues that had been closed-off to us during our working years. Retirement would give us the opportunity to enlarge our lives in ways that our careers had not allowed.
There is no one prescription for every person for when it’s time to slow down. Some people work throughout their 60s and even into their 70s with competence and energy. The pace that these individuals set for themselves, however, is much slower than during their peak working years. I was close friends with a man in his 80s who ran a small oil company in Oklahoma City. But, for the most part, his son handled the day-to-day business as my friend came to the office only two or three times a week and even then, only for a few hours. “I don’t have the stamina that I once did,” he confessed to me one evening while we were visiting. “My son runs the company now. I’m just an advisor.”
We shouldn’t surrender meekly to the Old Man, but neither should we think that his inevitable entrance into our lives is our final chapter. There are still more pages to write, stories to tell, and different ways to contribute. And when we finally become more acquainted with the Old Man, we may discover he is not such a bad guest after all. If we allow him, he can help us make the best of the journey ahead.
