It hit me for the first time when I was 42.  My hair was becoming this non-color, even worse than a dishwater blonde and all of a sudden, I had a decision to make.  Would I let it go naturally? I might have, if, like my mother’s hair there was a beautiful salt and pepper transition before turning a soft white.  But my hair decided to become undefinable and sad, demanding to be colored, and at the age of 42, it was suddenly time. 

Also at 42, I had a sudden and dramatic vision change, and in the blink of an eye (pun intended), there was no more close work to be done without the aid of reading glasses.  One day I was young, just barely (and finally) looking my age, and the next day my youth was gone forever.  In an instant, the incline I’d been scaling for the whole of my adult life peaked and I unexpectedly found myself heading down the other side, on the slippery slope of aging.

Now, twenty-plus years later, I’ve hit another set of milestones.  All of a sudden, and without warning, I don’t want to turn left across traffic, nor do I have any need whatsoever to jockey between lanes. Driving at night is less appealing. Losing weight is harder. Saggy skin is a real thing, as is osteoarthritis. I struggle to find the right word, and in an instant, lose the thought that was right on the tip of my tongue. Sleep is harder to come by.

I’m getting older.

There.  I said it. 

Can you relate?

As if I wasn’t convinced, what happened recently sealed the deal.  Our church’s marriage ministry periodically sponsors a date night complete with activity directions and conversation prompts.  Last time was “selfie challenge” date night, and we participated by taking and posting selfies – one by an historical sign, one with food/drink, one smooching…you get the idea.  We took a photo of the list of selfies, each one checked off, and posted it, too.  A friend pointed out that we’d missed the piggy-back selfie shot (oops – not on purpose).  We had talked about staging this one, rather than have the guy with the bad back picking up the gal who could stand to lose a few.  So we went back home and staged the first shot, making it look like Pete was riding on my back, but we decided it looked a little inappropriate.  Next, I tried standing on a step stool behind him, but it wasn’t quite the right height…

What happens next? Come back on Thursday for the rest of the story.

Love,
Gigi

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.
— Isaiah 46:4 (NIV)

Photo credit: Love photo created by freepik – www.freepik.com