Jules Renard once said, “It’s not how old you are, it’s how you are old.” I am a believer in this quote. 

The other day I ran across a photo of myself in my 20s. At first, I was unsure of my age in the photo, until I noticed I wasn’t wearing a wedding band. I married young in my sophomore year of college, but I had skipped twelfth grade and left for college at 17. I was married by the time I was 19 and divorced by 21. I remembered how old I was when the picture was taken. I was 21.

I put the photo next to one made a couple of weeks ago. I am now 71, and the two photos cover a period of a half a century. Goodness, time just slips away!

Old age brings with it many challenges—most notably, the decline of our health. As a result, we increasingly rely on the support of younger generations.

Pope Francis, who we just lost, acknowledged this reality, and the well-being of older people was close to his heart. He consistently expressed the importance and value of the elderly. One example was his establishment of the World Day for Grandparents and Older Persons. By doing this, he emphasized our value within families and society.

He believed the family was the most natural and nurturing environment, and he saw the elderly as ‘guardians’ of roots and values. He encouraged intergenerational dialogue and affirmed the vital role of older people in the life and mission of the Church, too.

How We Worship

In my church, which is Presbyterian, we are a small congregation of people over 50 years of age. We have no children who attend regularly. Parents and children today look for fast-paced worship services with sound stages, drums, and other instruments. It is what attracts them. What attracts many of us is tradition and reverence.

My church is traditional. The building itself is over 158 years old. Our ancestral members completed construction two years after the Civil War. We sing traditional hymns and complain bitterly when we do not know the hymns chosen for us. While our worship remains reverent, we cherish the passing of the peace — a moment like the tradition of old, when we leave our pews and spend nearly ten minutes greeting one another, reconnecting with friends and neighbors we may not have seen all week.

We take care of each other, praying for ourselves and our community, the world, and our country. We bring each other food when we get down. We thank God a lot, because we feel so blessed.

Our worship is a sacred rhythm — quiet, reverent, familiar. For many of us, it feels like home. We gather with those who share our season of life, exchanging peace not just in words, but in long hellos and warm reconnections.

Lately, though, I’ve been wondering: Is this enough? Are we, in choosing to worship where we feel most comfortable, missing the chance to show up where we’re most needed?

What if part of our worship included occasionally stepping into a different rhythm — one that pulses with drums or laughter or iPad Bibles — not because it speaks to us, but because it speaks to our grandchildren? What if we sat beside them, not to critique, but to bless — with our presence, our patience, and our open hearts?

It’s not about giving up what we love. It’s about expanding love. Worship doesn’t have to be the same for every generation, but it can still bring us together.

So maybe we keep our place of peace… and also visit theirs now and then. Maybe we show our grandkids that faith isn’t just something we talk about — it’s something we show up for.

My Youngest Grandchild at His Church

We Are Important to Society

Pope Francis tells us we offer memories—memories of people, events, and things that, in a sense, lay the foundation for the present and future of humanity. This wealth of experience, accumulated over many years, is a treasure belonging to all who have lived long lives.

Our past, our roots, our long-loved ways — these aren’t just nostalgic remnants of another era, nor should they be a ball and chain keeping us from the present. They are deep wells we draw from, not walls that trap us. When we carry them forward with open hands and open hearts, they become gifts — to share, not to guard. We should instead see them as fixed points from which we grow and meet new challenges.

Because I am a woman of faith, I thank God for this ‘time of grace’–this season of reflection, gratitude, and taking stock of my journey. Years of wisdom have shaped most of us. Life is better if we understand our importance in society, and the dignity and value of our old age.