In the corner of my hairline, right at my part, little white hairs sprout like dandelion weeds after a rainstorm. They’re a reminder that I’m not as young as I used to be and how the last few years have taken a toll on my body. I let them be for now, mostly because I have no desire or energy to do otherwise and perhaps because I’m curious about the process of aging – particularly of being middle-aged.
I am now the age of many of the deacons and deaconesses of the church I grew up in. They were my friends’ parents, the leaders in the church, the faithful ones who showed up and served the children’s and youth ministry in any way they could. From my teenage and early 20s vantage point, they seemed old and wise, as if they instinctively knew how to do it all – how to be an adult, how to make the best decisions, how to lead well, how to raise kids. I knew they weren’t perfect, but they at least seemed confident in how they carried themselves.
But from where I sit today, I wonder if they were neither old nor confident. Maybe they were just trying to make it through another day of navigating English as a second language. As immigrants, they had left whole lives, families, and communities to start fresh in a new country, and perhaps they were simply figuring their lives out one crisis at a time. Maybe what I perceived as “old” was simply exhaustion on their faces or the symptoms of trauma in their bodies. And maybe what I saw as “confidence” was a facade to cover their doubts and shame and insecurities, so as not to crumble in public or in front of their children. They were neither young nor old; they were just middle-aged and trying their best.
Despite their imperfections and mistakes and even the trauma they passed on, one line of hope I can pull out and read clearly is how they really tried to love well. It was often through food – in the assortment of banchan (Korean side dishes) in the fridge or the consistently delicious bowl of soup and rice after church service every Sunday. It was asking us if we’d eaten anytime they saw us and offering us whatever piece of candy or cracker they found in their purse. It was driving us to all the places we needed to be and had to go to play sports or hang out with friends. It was even nagging us to put on a jacket when the weather was chilly or yelling at us to be careful or bringing an extra pair of just about anything we might need, just in case.
Their love was wonky at times, but it was also fierce, and I feel that fierceness in me now too. I also feel the exhaustion and anxiety of trying to manage my own life while raising little humans. I experience, in a small way, the disconnect of language between one generation and another in the meaning and choice of words, though I have the ease and comfort of having the same mother tongue as my children. I also carry bandaids and cough drops and baby wipes in my bag and car for all the just-in-cases. And with the privilege of not having to survive every day, I have the freedom to be both grown-up and childlike. I get to hold the wonder, the gravity, and the responsibility of forming and creating a world for the next generation in a way the generation before me may not have had the bandwidth to do.
But in everything I do, I must remember that love must be the through line. And it needs to be the kind of love that’s real, transformative, the kind that lasts. As 1 Corinthians 13 reminds us, anything we do and anything we are amounts to nothing if we don’t have love. We see that theme woven back and forth throughout the whole Bible and especially in the life of Jesus. Jesus was love made flesh, love embodied. As I think about how to live this middle-aged life stage well, how to create a world for the next generation that would generate flourishing, I remember how Jesus lived out 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 –
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
I want to be like Him. I feel the weighty importance of loving like Jesus, particularly now, when I’m needing to care for generations on either side of me, when I’m mentoring our church youth kids and the young adults in my life, when I’m seeing time pass too quickly and recognizing how precious every moment is with my family and friends.
One day, this life stage will pass, so for the time being, while I’m still here, I’m trying my best to let love be the throughline.
Ruth Mills says
Amen! Well said, Grace.
Tasha says
So good, Grace. Let love be the through line indeed. Amen.
Kathy Francescon says
So beautiful and from the heart. We all age, in years, in pain, in loss, in trauma. And yet, the love certainly is that one thing, that never grows old! It is fresh and new everyone, enticing us on. Praise God, for the gift of loving! Love is the through line…all the way to Heaven!
Susen says
This says it all!! Love!
Thank you!
Lori says
I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot lately since I am 61 and my adult children have all chosen not to follow Jesus. Although we raised them in a Christian home, we did not communicate His love to them in a real way. We were so busy with life -working and homeschooling that we did not reach out to care for others in practical ways. I hope this will encourage those that still have kids at home to remember they are watching what you do and how you show love not just to them but to others. I know God can work all things for His glory and our growth so I have hope. After 40 years of being a Christian He is still teaching me. Thank you for such a great reminder that even though we might be struggling ourselves we can still show God’s love in practical ways of caring for others.
Brenda M. Russell says
Yes my Sisters in Christ, my gray hair lets me know that I have graduated to the midlife phase of being a girl. I never thought it would be like this. It happened so fast. My three daughters are all of a sudden grownups. Where has the time gone?
I know for sure that I worked overtime trying to be the young wife that I should be and then the young mother that everyone was watching me become. Then I even tried to hold my marriage together while my spouse was trying to find himself. Now that journey is still going on and I have given that outcome to the Lord.
Now I do remember thinking that the adults had it all together when I was in grammar school. They were just doing their best to make good decisions for their children and their families. I understand so much more now. Since I have taken a lot of steroids for Rheumatoid Arthritis, I understand gaining unwanted extra weight. I’m sorry I could not see more compassion as I was growing up for people like me (Overweight), (Depressed), (Tired and Overworked), (Traumatized from Hurt and Brokenness), (Lack of Direction), (Afraid of Tomorrow) and (Feeling Overwhelmed). Yes, I really understand so much better.
Lord, Thank You For Teaching Me To Love Others Like You Love Me.
Amen.
Brenda
Your Sister in Christ
Beth Williams says
Grace,
This reminds me of the song “The Proof of Your Love” by King & Country. Here’s the chorus:
So let my life be the proof, the proof of your love
Let my love look like you, and what you’re made of How you lived, how you died
Love is sacrifice So let my life be the proof The proof of your love.
True love is sacrifice. We give of ourselves to show others Christ’s love for them. Christ showed us love by offering His only son to die for our sins. We should love like Jesus. I was able to do that Saturday by picking up needed medical supplies & delivering them for a friend. She fell broke elbow, but now back hurts & has degenerative disk disease. I spent time talking with her also. I will call other friends or take them out to eat. Trying always to shower this country with God’s love.
Blessings 🙂