About Aging

 Although I have never seen Star Wars, nor the latest movie, I did find myself following the comments comparing the way Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher have aged.  Our society seems to think men age better than women, but I disagree.  I believe we simply have a different standard by which we judge the sexes.  Some folks do age better than others, and while some may remain attractive, their health isn't necessarily better . . . The late Paul Newman is a perfect example of this statement.  We've allowed ourselves to be programmed by Hollywood, in that men can remain leading men throughout their careers, but a leading woman in her twenties and thirties is usually relegated to supporting actress by the time she hits her forties . . .

I believe this claim is really based on the premise that men are more visual than women, therefore a feminine youthful look is considered to be more attractive.  The truth of the matter is, there is a certain attractiveness in youth that fades as we age, but there is also a light of seasoned wisdom that comes with age which has a different but obvious attraction . . . in both sexes.  Statement of fact, unless a man is aging like Sam Elliot or Denzel Washington, we regular women notice the not so perfect traits of the aging average man, just like men notice our changes.  For the record, Steve Harvey and George Clooney are also aging well.  Obviously I'm using Hollywood as the standard of attractiveness for one simple reason, the names and faces are recognizable to most everyone, and if you don't recognize the name, they can all be "Googled."

We women are quite capable of assessing physical qualities and just like men, we do take note of the deterioration.  Now, this is not all men or all women, but I do think even though both sexes know deterioration does occur, most women would rather not be with someone who is in dramatically better physical shape than they are in.  We've all seen an older guy with a younger woman . . . and admit it, the first thought is, "he must have money."  If he doesn't have money, we begin to analyze what her issues must be . . .  I think our society has programmed or at least encouraged the thinking that a partner is an enhancement of one's own image.  Older men with younger women seem to think the younger woman gives them a more attractive presence.  I'm realistic enough and practical enough to know if I were on the arm of a man, two decades my junior, I'd just look old and silly.

At 57 years of age, I can see that everything on my body is not what or even where it used to be, and although some may still consider me relatively attractive, I'm never mistaken for 30.  I do think men have a greater confidence in their aging process, which may come across as more attractive, or in many cases ignorantly arrogant.  I can't speak for all women, and although we may not be as visual as men, we aren't blind!  I have been somewhat aghast at some folks who really seem to see themselves in a much better light than the rest of us notice.  I've seen middle aged couples that have caused me to wonder more than once, what one must have seen in the other . . . and then I see some who look very much equal in the way they are aging, be that well or . . . equally, not so much.  It's as if they have maintained the same speed and direction.

Sadly, I think our society has just become very superficial.  I know one gal who is always talking about physical appearance and considers herself to be quite attractive.  I refer to her with a special dichotomy.  She is "deeply superficial."  I do not consider myself to be a superficial person, and there is certainly more to a person than their physical appearance.  There is one trait that is absolutely necessary for me to find a man attractive and that is a good strong work ethic.  I don't care what color his hair is, or even if he has hair.  Nor do I care what he does, be it white collar or blue collar, but a work ethic is vital.  At this point in life, I'm blessed to know several retired men who retired from respected careers and remain quite active.

A gal named Donna Lou Stevens wrote a song that is not only entertaining and enjoyable, but speaks the heart of so many women.

Aging

Several years ago, I gave some serious contemplation as to how my parents were aging.  When my grandparents were in their 40s, that seemed old, but then, my perspective was that of a child, and society had a different aging standard in the 1960s.  Anyone over 35 was "old establishment."   From the time I was twelve, I was looking forward to 40.  By the time 40 came around for me, it was fantastic and didn't really seem so old, after all.  It was in the next couple of years as my parents were hitting 60, that age seemed to be the new aging standard.  Either one was a young 60 or an old 60, and my parents are one of each.

In my early 40s, 60 really wasn't much of an issue, and I've always been more like Daddy than mom. I guess I just figured I'd be a young 60, but the other night, I got a wake up call, in the mirror.  As I stood at the sink, washing my hands, in the mirror; my great grandma was looking back at me.  Seeing the image of Daddy's grandma startled me, immensely.  I remember Granny, but she was much older than I am now, when I was born.  I shook it off, as best I could, and headed to bed.  It hadn't occurred to me that Daddy might be the exception to his family rule, or that he'd simply aged better because of his very active and athletic lifestyle.  Then there is the fact that men do tend to age better than women . . . think Paul Newman, Cary Grant, Sam Elliot.  Those men could still be the "leading man" while their female counterparts of the early movie days were relegated to support roles.

Sleep was a bit restless that night, as I considered a bold fact.  I'm less than three years from 60.  Although genetics will be an obvious factor, I still have a choice as to how 60 is going to hit and fit!  Vanity is not the issue, my endurance and activity level is my concern.  I remember several years ago, crying to Abba about having given Mr. B the last of my "good looking years," to which my Heavenly Father responded, "No, those were over before you met him."  Touche'!  Except for that one bout of self-pity, since following Messiah, I've been much more concerned about the beauty of my spirit.  I do want to reflect the glory of my Heavenly Father in my countenance.  The recent revelation that my hair is no longer salt & pepper, as well as more than a few aches and pains with rain coming that same night, caused me to evaluate a few other things that night.

Last year, right before Yom Teruah, I'd planned to do some things differently.  How many of those "good intentions" had I implemented?  As I laid there in the dark, evaluating my checklist, the stretches and increased walking hadn't exactly come to fruition, but HalleluYah!  I did have peace in the acceptance and resolve of a few other things . . . The ministry outreach has expanded exponentially and I think I'm more prepared than when I first heard to do so.  So, now that Yom Teruah is approaching once again, I'm repenting for my failure to accomplish some of the intentions.  I'm careful in regard to vows, but I'm not so sure Abba draws that line in my semantics, so it's time to get serious!

I'm not at all upset about growing older.  I've been counting on experiencing "my youth renewed" as found in Psalm 103.  I have no intention or desire to look 30, but I often think of doing chores and milking goats 20 years from now.  I want that.  I want to be able to do that.  I want to walk the half mile lane picking blackberries when I'm pushing 80, if my numbered days reach that point.  I want to still have a garden.  There is no need for the redeemed remnant to deteriorate with age.  I want to wear out, not rust out!  I can't expect Abba to renew my youth if I don't make a point to remain active.  If I'm not a young 60, the chances of being an active 80 will be drastically diminished.

My hair color and features are what they are, but I do have a choice in my activity and energy level.  The truth is:  I'm not getting any younger, but there is an element of choice in how gracefully I age.