Aging with Grace, Grit, and a Side of Medicare

I Turn 65 Today

I half-hoped for a divine upgrade—maybe the ability to remember where I left my phone or all my passwords without a spreadsheet. Instead, I woke up with an aching back, a rogue chin hair, and an odd excitement about senior discounts and Medicare.

How do I know I’m officially getting old? Recently, a grocery store clerk told me, “My GRANNY loves that,” and he looked about fifty. Pajamas now mean survival, not bedtime, and by 8 p.m. my eyelids go on strike. I wake at 4:30 a.m., rise annoyingly cheerful, and by nightfall, transform from Rise and Shine to Sit and Whine.

My husband has Bluetooth hearing aids, so sometimes I’m unknowingly talking to myself while he’s watching reels. And medical “perks” keep rolling in: colonoscopy, hearing tests, eye exams for future cataracts. Still, I’m grateful. This body has carried children, bent in prayer, held tight in sorrow, hugged friends in crisis, and applauded grandkids in victory. Every scar, wrinkle, and gray hair is a marker of God’s grace.

Aging hasn’t been soft-lit or poetic. On a hike, I once asked if our life insurance was up to date. Another time, I bent to tie my shoe and decided the ground was a fine resting spot. But I’m not slowing down. I still have goals. Books of the Bible to teach, words to write, relationships to nurture, and a legacy to leave.

I’ve learned wisdom grows in surrender, joy settles into everyday rhythms, and faithfulness, not flashiness, marks a life well lived. Titus 2 doesn’t expire; I’m still called to teach and mentor younger women, not because I’ve mastered life, but because I’ve learned to trust the One who holds it together.

So here I am—65 with grace, grit, and a side of Medicare—anchored to God’s promise: “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He… I will sustain you” (Isa. 46:4). Tonight, I’ll celebrate with popcorn and an early bedtime, full of fresh goals and gratitude.

The story’s not over.

God’s not finished.
And neither am I.