Age is just a Number—not a Bummer

So often when we think about the aging process, we associate it with a negative vibe: More wrinkles, more gray hair (or no hair), loss of memory, a decline in health, a decrease in energy, etc.

But how different would our perspective be if we looked at age as just a number rather than a bummer?

I realize there are always going to be circumstances that shatter our outlook on life, where we drift in and out of periods filled with fear, disappointment, and frustration. However, if we can adapt to each stage and understand the changes and limitations it poses to our well-being, it will, in time, enable us to look through a different and more positive lens.

It's a proven fact that the mind has a great deal of power over how we age. It can give us the ability to age gracefully, or it can provide us with the potential to speed up the process, mainly aging us long before our time. That's why it's so important that we not only strive to live a healthy lifestyle, but we must find ways to de-stress and banish the negative mindset as well.

I turned 59 in February, and I can honestly say I feel younger than I did ten years ago. Retiring early—almost four years ago now—and cutting out work-related stress has helped, but my most significant change revolves around a more positive outlook. Thank you, Jesus!

And while faith is (no doubt) the engine that drives my new outlook on life, delving into self-education topics relating to the human psyche has made me aware of just how much my past had caused me to live in a cynical mindset.

On the whole, I was someone who saw the glass half-empty. But thankfully, I am now someone who has evolved into seeing the glass half-full, and recounting my past isn't a bummer anymore; it's merely a reference point to the path that I now find myself on.

None of us know what the future holds. But—in the grand scheme of things—we know that God is the healer of old wounds, the keeper of the "book of life" in which age is just a number. So until the Creator calls us home, let's not age before our time; instead, let's strive to age gracefully in body, mind, and spirit.

Finding the Rainbow in Grief

Just as the many faces of grief represent some of life's darkest hours, for me, a rainbow is a symbolic reminder of how God's light pierces through the darkness and offers hope beyond the storm.

Do you know there are ultraviolet and infrared light/colors present in a rainbow? But the naked eye can only pick up the seven colors of the spectrum: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet.

Let's assume the vibrant colors of the rainbow symbolically express the layers of beauty life has to offer, and the colors not seen represent the segments of adversity we face. After all, life isn't always beautiful. There are periods of time when it can be cruel and littered with hardships, and losing a loved one is one such hardship.

Those of us who have walked (or who are walking) through the valley of grief, know it's impossible to see anything colorful in the rawness of grief. We find it hard to believe there will be better days, brighter days ahead.

And while there's no timeline for grief—life, however, cannot go forward until the storm within us begins to subside. Only then will the rainbows vibrant colors slowly filter back into our lives. No doubt we will see them in a different light, but through perseverance and God's guidance, the hurtful memories will fade, and we will find a pot of gold within the treasured memories of our loved one.

I know this to be true in my own life. I will never forget the dreaded phone call that forever changed me. Losing my mom of 56 years to a massive heart attack (in August of 1987) plunged me into a dark place, where grief virtually took me down an unhealthy road toward a mental breakdown.

I couldn't see the beauty of the rainbow anymore. I was being sucked into, what felt like, a whirling vortex, void of color. I tried each day to kick into survival mode, to put one foot in front of the other for my four-year-old daughter and five-month-old son, leaving me little time to give attention to what was, indeed, happening inside my body. There was no checklist to help me navigate through grief, no access to grief resources like we have today. Besides, it was as if grief and depression carried a greater stigma back then—an awkwardness—you might say, which made it even harder to admit that I needed help.

But with hindsight comes perspective: My near breakdown was a breakthrough into the window of my grief, the beginning of my healing process.

In our unique way, we will forever mourn our loved ones. There will always be a part of us that feels sadness over their loss. Having said that, though, as they continue to live on in our heart, we will be able to enjoy the beauty of the rainbow once again—through the many memories we'd shared together.