The Courage to Grow Older

The other day, I happened to overhear an elderly woman. She was chastising her friend. “Tsk, tsk. You shouldn’t drink your soda through a straw. It’ll create wrinkles around your mouth. I never drink through a straw.”

I glanced at the woman and guessed she was around 90 years old, and thought to myself, does it ever end? This relentless societal pressure to appear young?

Do you remember the Snow White fairytale, where the Evil Queen’s obsession with her outward appearance made her so paranoid that it escalated into jealousy and terror? She goes to the Magic Mirror and asks it to confirm her beauty. And it does. Over and over again. But with the passing of time, youth, represented by Snow White, surpassed her, and she became no longer the fairest in the land.

She aged.

The fairy tale exaggerates the fear, but its roots are surprisingly familiar.

Throughout my life, I too have felt the overwhelming pressure to hide the natural process of aging. Coloring my hair to soften the gray. Choosing flattering hairstyles. Trying natural supplements. Hoping an expensive skin cream might erase time.

Why do I feel better when someone compliments me on looking young? Why do I keep photos of myself where I look youthful and throw away those that make me look old?

Does it ever end?

I think wanting to be young is probably natural for all of us, but so is physical decline; gray hairs and wrinkles reminding us that life is temporary. Don’t wisdom and kindness deepen with time?

Another story I like is a famous Zen parable.

In the tale, an older monk goes to his master, distressed and unhappy because the young monks in the monastery can do things better than he can. The Zen master leads him into the garden, where two trees stand side by side: one is a vibrant, blooming cherry tree, the other is a sturdy, weathered pine.

When the Zen master asks the monk which one is better, the young monk says they are simply different, but perfect in their own way.

 “Yes,” the Zen master replies. “Cherry blossoms bloom briefly … but the pine endures.”

I like to think of the etchings on our faces as unique badges of a well-lived life, a road map of all we’ve experienced. Wrinkles marking where smiles have been. Silver hair a testament to maturity and dignity. Reduced joint mobility as witness to the many mountains we may have climbed or the special places we’ve traveled to. Hands weathered from years of caring.

When I look up at a 1,000-year-old Red Cedar, I do not think it’s too old. In fact, it’s the opposite.

They are spectacular.

I am in awe.

We can fight aging. But it will not stop the inevitable. We are born. We live. We die. What’s in between is a life; hopefully richly lived. Not hidden. Not covered. But proudly displayed.

Have you seen a smiling face that was not beautiful?

Enjoy the Passage of Time.

Sharon

© 2026. Sharon Kreider. All Rights Reserved.