Grey Hair

I am getting old. Not older.

Old.

I was talking to one of parents the other day, and realized that my parents were not that much older than me anymore. I had gone from being the young buck who mentored their kids to actually thinking like them.

Cool. Right?

I see what I will euphemistically refer to as maturity in everything. While visiting my parents, I started ragging on my kid brother about the chrome wheels he had on his ride. While it was a bit too "urban" for me, the blaring music and leaned-back seats pushed it over my top, and I gave him a quick lecture about the importance of image.

He listened, and wordlessly went into the garage and fished out something to present to me. It was a pair of plastic gold finish windshield-wiper covers. I was aghast. I remember purchasing them more than a decade ago to put on my Geo that had no stereo and that had sported some flames on the side that wreaked havoc on the eyes.

"Touche,'" I said. I then did what any respectable, older brother would do: I snatched the hideous objects and chased him round and through the house, beating him with them the whole while.

Thing is, not that long ago, I would have been spending the afternoon polishing my chrome wheels. How times change.

Kids call me "sir" by reflex, or worse, "Mr Tre." I actually have not bought a pair of designer jeans in years, and I actually have considered wearing a shirt and tie to games that I coach, as I have come to prefer getting decked out. I even buy spray starch in bulk. I admit that I have fantasized about having a head full of wavy, glorious white hair. Or, at least a respectable salt-and-pepper. Please God.

The boys I coached recently thought it made good sense to spot me a few yards during a race we had. My siblings (all younger) think it is good form to refer to me as "pops." And those stupid forms with the age data just compound the problem. Why does it have to be 30-40? Why not 18-35? Sounds like a valid age group to me.

It's not all bad. Yeah, beyond the nervous ponderings pertaining to prostate exams and nutritional supplements, there is something infinitely cool about my recent surge into my thirties. There is a renewed sense of appreciation of life. I love having kids at this age, where my juvenile tendencies are reborn in them. Ministry-wise (as in life generally), it gives one a great badge of responsibility, but also touches on the realization that you have so much more to still learn. Still.

So, give thanks for being old. It is clear than in this day, it is not a given. It is a true blessing.