When our volunteer work took my husband Andrew, our daughter Angelina, and me from Europe to Central America, we were blessed with the wonderful opportunity to visit a peaceful lake in Guatemala that had once been a local center of the rich Mayan culture. In this serene setting, the main event of the day for locals and visitors alike is watching the sun set behind three volcanoes that rim the west side of the lake. Here the pleasures of life are simple, like swimming where the volcanic hot springs rise up into the lake, creating a curious mixture of ice-cold, tepid, and very hot water.
I don’t drink coffee myself, but I was fascinated to observe how coffee beans are grown, dried, roasted, ground, and finally brewed to a delicious deep brown cup of coffee. The aroma was intoxicating, and the taste, said Andrew and Angelina, was divine—a truly homemade cup of coffee from beginning to end.
Today I’m 65. I have officially entered the ranks of the elderly. As of today, I’m an “old man.”
What a wretched little word—“old”! It conjures up other words like “decrepit” and “declining” and “dementia.” It doesn’t describe what I am or how I feel. It’s almost insulting!
Do you know who the happiest people are? Those who have the courage to be themselves, just the way God made them, rather than try to be something they’re not in order to fit in or impress others. Struggling to live up to what you think others expect of you puts a heavy weight on you, but there’s freedom in humility.
When I was young I didn’t like the way I looked. I thought my nose was too big and that I was too skinny and ugly. I had quite an inferiority complex about that, and it took me a long time to get over it. Part of it was my pride, and part of it was comparing myself to others. But as I grew older, I realized none of that really mattered. I understood that the Lord had made me the way He wanted me, and that He had made me that way because He loved me.
Your body is an amazingly intricate and efficient machine, but it needs proper care to run well. If you want to be free of sickness and other physical problems, you have to do your part. That takes time, thought, and effort. You have to eat properly, drink plenty of fluids, get sufficient sleep, exercise, have your teeth and eyes checked periodically, limit your exposure to things that could be harmful, and so on.
I decided “better late than never” and ventured into something new and long overdue: at age 50-plus, I registered for lessons at a local driving school.
To my horror, during just my second class, I was taken to drive in the chaotic Nairobi traffic.
“Try to create space around your vehicle,” was one of the first instructions.
I decided “better late than never” and ventured into something new and long overdue: at age 50-plus, I registered for lessons at a local driving school.
To my horror, during just my second class, I was taken to drive in the chaotic Nairobi traffic.
“Try to create space around your vehicle,” was one of the first instructions.
Last winter I took a five-week trip to fundraise for a humanitarian aid project I'm involved with. My plan was ambitious—possibly overly so. Long, intense days for over a month straight took a toll on my spiritual life and general disposition.
One day, as I was taking my lunch break and walking around the large mall where I was manning a collection booth, the nonstop sights and sounds in this highly charged commercial setting were weighing on my spirit. I am a nature lover, and the below-zero temperatures and severe snowstorms that kept me indoors even when I got off work were another factor that made me feel trapped and miserable.
I used to have my own definitions of longsuffering and patience. Longsuffering was putting up with something, and patience was putting up with nothing. The one was expressed in "I wish I didn't have," and the other in "I wish I did." There's more to both than that, of course, especially longsuffering.
When I looked into the Greek word µακροθυµέω (phonetically, makrothumia), the word translated in some Bible versions as “longsuffering,” I saw that there was another facet. Makro means “long” (no revelation there), and thumia means temper, which was eye-opening. So a more precise translation of makrothumia may be long-tempered, the opposite of short-tempered.
I used to have my own definitions of longsuffering and patience. Longsuffering was putting up with something, and patience was putting up with nothing. The one was expressed in "I wish I didn't have," and the other in "I wish I did." There's more to both than that, of course, especially longsuffering.
When I looked into the Greek word µακροθυµέω (phonetically, makrothumia), the word translated in some Bible versions as “longsuffering,” I saw that there was another facet. Makro means “long” (no revelation there), and thumia means temper, which was eye-opening. So a more precise translation of makrothumia may be long-tempered, the opposite of short-tempered.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
—Matthew 5:9 NIV
We who work for peace must not falter. We must continue to pray for peace and to act for peace in whatever way we can, we must continue to speak for peace and to live the way of peace; to inspire others, we must continue to think of peace and to know that peace is possible.
—Peace Pilgrim (1908–1981), born Mildred Lisette Norman, pacifist and peace activist