The scene: parking lot of a four-star hotel.

The players: middle-aged couple discussing a friend’s “two-seater” car.

Mr.—remarked it was silly for an “elderly” man to drive such a vehicle.

Mrs.—argued he was not elderly.

Mr.—He’s our age…

Mrs. disagreed strongly with the comparison.

Mr. All I’m saying is ‘we’re not getting any younger.’

“We’re not getting any younger.”

A truth about every single person you know.

My youngest grandchild is a day older today than yesterday.

So are we all.

And what a blessing that is.

All kinds of opinions and advice have been offered about aging.

For some: aging and its accompanying inescapable factors are the sole topic of conversation and mental occupation.

Some try to escape the fact by any means necessary.

Some remain vibrant and engaging even in their eighties and nineties.    

However, aging can bring with it the nagging and incessant presence of fear.

Fear of a loss of physical strength, mental strength. A loss of control over one’s home, finances, schedule, choice of activities. Fear of becoming dependent on the children you brought up. Fear of not keeping up with new ways of doing things.

It is possible to age well and gracefully.

Eat well. Exercise. Avoid bad habits. Go regularly to the dentist, the doctor. Give to others. Engage in meaningful activities. Contribute to community. Have a grateful heart and positive outlook.

You can go on being young at heart.

One day, however, you will realize you are not what you once were, and you didn’t even see it coming.

Example: One day (I was somewhere in my sixties, and feeling generally good and strong), I opened the laundry room door into the garage and hit the garage door button. The door was going up. I walked over and ducked down (as I often did) to scoot outside before the door was all the way up…and promptly and soundly banged my forehead into the bottom of the door as it rose.

I thought I’d cleared it. I’d done this before…but my reflexes had slowed just enough that I was mistaken about the time it took for the door to rise and how low I had stooped to duck underneath.

After that, I started being more careful…walking more slowly, being more deliberate in looking around. Judging distance and time.  

For some reason: I was “keeping up,” and doing fine till I was sixty-eight. It was then that I began to feel less confident about my own invincibility.

My regimen was the same. I was still helping my children with their children. I was still doing yoga. I was still volunteering, serving at my church, teaching online, writing books, being busy, but deep in my heart, I knew I was entering a new phase of life.

I stopped climbing a ladder to clean out my gutters. I stopped riding my bike before the sun came up. I stopped riding roller coasters at Disney.

I stopped going out at night. I carried a flashlight when I walked my dog in the dark. I stopped being foolish—over-doing, carrying things too heavy for me.

And yet: one day, a half inch of raised sidewalk (not an exaggeration…it’s barely visible) tripped me up…I wasn’t even hurrying…caught the toe of my sensible Keds…and I went sprawling onto the concrete (not the grass) and broke my left hip.

My fear had been realized. I was hurt and helpless.  

This is the story of that grim and life-changing experience.

A steep learning curve.

The tale of:

Changes made.

Facts faced.

Self accepted.

God acknowledged.

In some ways, the experience has been freeing. The nameless fear that dogged me for years had come to pass.

I had to face it. There was no going around it and it was possible and endurable. But it took a lot of time, tears, and lots of help from many, many professionals, friends, and my family.

Somewhere during the midst of all my confusion, the words of Job came to mind.

“For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.” Job 3:25

And I wondered: did Job think his life was too good to be true? Had he always worried trouble would come and he couldn’t face it?

For the last few years, my favorite verse—the one I most often quote—is Psalm 37:23.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way.”

This was my philosophy. How often did I say: “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord…not the miles”?

Laid up and unable to move, I was meditating on this verse, when I realized what the very next verse said.

“Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORD upholdeth him with his hand.”

All those years, I just kept thinking (maybe you’re the same way):

I have to keep moving. I have to do this, that, the other. I have to adjust. I have to work. I have to…

I feared what would happen, how I would feel, how I would be viewed…if I stopped “stepping.”

But when the day came, I found I was not utterly cast down…as I had feared…I was upheld.

Not getting any younger…no…not “stepping” like I used to…but not cast down either…upheld by God’s hand.