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\nI turned 60 today. Happy birthday me!<\/p>\n
And my brother. His name is Steve. We were born on the same day six years apart. He was the first child. I was the last. Perfect bookends. He remains everyone\u2019s big brother. I remain everyone\u2019s little brother. That is one thing that 60 years hasn\u2019t changed.<\/p>\n
People say that chronological age doesn\u2019t matter. Once I got north of 50 I got a lot more of those \u201cyou\u2019re as young as you feel!\u201d comments. God bless them. But y\u2019know that\u2019s true. Like when I have a sore back after home or yard work. Like when I go to comb my hair and realize that there\u2019s not much there to comb. Not much there to \u201cfeel.\u201d But “feeling” isn’t just physical. \u00a0I still find most things “amazing!” \u00a0I haven’t lost my wonder<\/a>. My curiosity of things only\u00a0grows. While I could probably lose a few physical pounds, I haven’t lost an ounce of mirth. So yes, by that measure I’m still quite young.<\/p>\n 60.<\/p>\n Big deal?<\/p>\n Not really. Birthdays in general were never a big deal growing up. That came courtesy of being raised by parents of midwestern farmers who grew up in the Great Depression. \u201cJust another day\u201d my Dad would shrug. And he was right. After today there\u2019s the 14th. Then another number. And a day. All those Thursdays and Fridays and Mondays. Months. Seasons. Years. They begin to blend in quickly. Birthdays are a blip. A rain drop in life’s ocean.<\/p>\n 60.<\/p>\n Big deal?<\/p>\n Well, sorta. I\u2019m certainly in no danger of having a mid-life crisis. That is now a chronological impossibility. Perhaps a pre-retirement crisis. With each year that passes the whisper of mortality becomes a bit louder. Something to be mindful of. No reason to freak out. Just mindful. Lot of talk about that these days. Mindfulness, that is. Everyone says it is a good thing. Health and culture gurus declare it a medicinal and therapeutic power. If so, then I figure there\u2019s no sin in being mindful of the fact that you are 60 and not 16. Or some other age. People say you shouldn\u2019t dwell on how old you are. Perhaps they are right. Don\u2019t dwell. Be mindful.<\/p>\n 60.<\/p>\n Good time to step back and take stock of things. \u00a0Birthdays do that. It has been a good ride. A few hills and valleys. Luckily more of the former than the latter. Perhaps not luck at all. I have been blessed. God has been ever patient and forgiving with me. I don\u2019t know why. I\u2019m not better than others. I\u2019m as flawed as the next. I have my issues. God has helped me through them.<\/p>\n And my family? Where do I begin? Sanderijn? My siblings? My children? Their spouses? The nephews and grandchildren? The whole community of friends past and present. \u00a0Folks who I haven’t seen for years but who still give me occasional shout outs and words of encouragement. \u00a0I write words but think in faces, relationships, shared experiences, deep affection and thankfulness. Just thinking about them and my 60-year-old eyes get watery. They do that more these days. Watery 60-year-old-eyes. There\u2019s a change. I\u2019m good with that.<\/p>\n 60.<\/p>\n Good time to think about tomorrow. \u00a0Birthdays do that too. I figure it is a sprint to the final. Maybe not a 20-something sprint to the final. As I remember those were fantastically chaotic. They often had the wrong finish line. Or no finish line at all! Perhaps more of a 60-year-old type sprint to the final. Methodical but determined. A sprint with some narrowing. A sprint with some leavening. A sprint interrupted occasionally\u00a0with a good book, a meaningful conversation, a loving smile. And a sprint where the finish line is clear and bright.<\/p>\n