The prompt for today's post asks how I feel about growing old...
Hmmm... I'm 55
Some days, with my sore joints I feel every one of those years, and a few more.
But, most of the time I forget
I am simply not aware of how old I am, or how old I feel
I just love my life!
I guess there was a time when I could not have said that
A time when life felt difficult and stressful,
every day was heavy and long
and I was not able to say I was content.
Now things are difficult
I look at my sons and feel pride welling in all they have achieved
and the lovely young men they've grown into
I look at the man I love, and feel the joy and reassurance of knowing I'm loved in return.
I look at my job, and it makes me happy. I am fulfilled and content,
I have days and weeks that are challenging, richly varied, or incredibly busy.
The list of tasks never seems to be finished,
and yet, in all of that I am convinced I am where I need to be,
where God wants me, and that's more than enough!
I am so busy, being happy, content, busy, challenged, noisy, quiet, hopeful and loved
I don't have time to think about how old I am!
On a more practical note...
I love colour...
And, for as long as I can get away with it...