Flatlander Faith

Apologetics from an Anabaptist perspective

Tag Archives: growing old

The genius of French

Yesterday’s word from Mot du Jour, a French word of the day app, was adulescent. It is one letter short of adult, one vowel different from adolescent and describes a young adult who behaves like a teenager. Another word used in the description was quincados, which means people in their fifties who try to appear much younger. Ado is the French equivalent of teenager.

I have met people like that, haven’t you? It must be a hard life, always trying to avoid confronting the reality of who you really are.

At 76 I am still very much alive, but I am not young. Seventeen was a long time ago and I don’t wish to go back. I have lived all those years, I don’t regret any of them, at least not the lessons they have taught me, but I have no longing to relive them.

That quality of being at peace with who you are is described in French as being bien dans son peau, comfortable in one’s own skin. Mine has a few wrinkles, that’s just part of being 76.

About that beard on my face

Why did I ever decide to grow hair on my face?

The answer should be obvious – I didn’t. It grew all by itself, without any decision or effort on my part.

That brings up another question – Why do I leave it there? The best answer is the simplest one – I decided that if God made the hair to grow on my face it would probably be pleasing to Him if I let it be seen.

That was all there was to it. I didn’t engage in deep theological reflection when I made that decision. Neither did I find any command in the Bible that told me I had to wear a beard. There is no such command in the Bible. I believe the reason for that is that God doesn’t endow all men with the potential to grow hair on the face. Thus He must be OK with the fact that such men don’t have beards, and the rest of us should be too.

There are indications in the Bible, though, that it is a shame and a disgrace for a man who has a beard to have it removed. I don’t think that’s really a doctrinal proof of the need for a beard. Just another indication that it would be a good idea for me to let mine be seen.

I do trim my beard regularly. I don’t want to look like an old prospector who lives in a remote cabin and rarely show his face in public.

The hair on top of my head gets more sparse with the passing years. A barber tried to console me once by saying that we don’t really lose hair as we get older. It just starts to show up in different places – the eyebrows grow bushier, tufts of hair grow out of our ears and nostrils.

At least I think he was trying to console me. One might as well face the changes wrought by passing years with humour. My barber now trims my eyebrows every time I get a haircut. And I do my best to keep the ear and nose hairs trimmed back so they don’t become noticeable.

For the same reason, if a lady finds dark hairs growing on her chin, I believe it’s entirely permissible for her to take whatever measures are needed to make them disappear. In fact, I would highly recommend that she do that.

But I am quite OK with the hair growing on my face. I don’t let my beard grow too long, though. One of my granddaughters used to express an interest in trying to braid it. I thought it best to keep the beard short enough that braiding wouldn’t be possible.

Thoughts on growing old

  1. Winter isn’t much fun anymore.
  2. Neither are the really hot days of summer.
  3. Everything takes longer – even getting out of bed in the morning.
  4. It’s no longer a mystery how my Dad could take a nap after dinner.
  5. I’m more concerned that my shoes be comfortable than that they be fashionable.
  6. Some of the hair that used to grow on top of my head now grows out my ears and nostrils.
  7. I’ve lived long enough to see my daughter doing things that were ridiculous when her mother did them.
  8. I’ve had time to make enough mistakes that I no longer get so riled up about other people’s mistakes.
  9. My messy desk no longer seems cool.
  10. I don’t look forward to birthdays as much as I used to.

(Thoughts prompted by another birthday coming up in a few days and this post by Jnana Hodson )


—How old are you?
—What year is it?
—Two thousand and four
—Then I am ninety-six.










Juggling jobs

I am getting old, I call myself semi-retired, but it seems that I have more demands on my time than ever before, and I’m not at all sure that I’m managing my time wisely.

I am a bookkeeper: A large part of my income is pension, but I still have five bookkeeping clients that I need to work for on a regular basis.

I am a member of the French editing committee of our church. This doesn’t take up a lot of time, but it is enjoyable and useful work. And I do get some payment for the time spent.

I am a writer: Besides this blog, and another one in French, I have other writing projects that are really important to me, but it is hard to find time for them.

I am a father and grandfather: At this stage that may mostly mean being a cheerleader. That means being there, paying attention. I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of it.

I am a husband: My wife is going through chemo-therapy treatments for Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. I go with her to almost all her appointments. The treatments have worked, there are no more symptoms, but she still needs two more rounds of chem to keep it away as long as possible. Meanwhile, she needs a lot of rest and her resistance is low. One side benefit of the chemo is that it has pretty much eliminated her arthritis pain. I’m sure that is only temporary.

Monday was our 46th anniversary. To celebrate, I took her to our nearest town where one of the vets and her husband were doing a barbecue to raise money for their non-profit pet rescue organization. So we both had a hot dog, a can of pop and a cookie. I thought it was a good deal, Chris didn’t have to cook or do dishes and the money went to a good cause.

Yesterday we went out for a more formal meal at the Cave Restaurant in Saskatoon.

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