Aging – Dwelling in Presence

UNEXPECTED SWEETNESS

September 14, 2026

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

I harvested two more tomatoes from a decrepit looking plant today. While the leaves and stems were desiccated, the fruit was bright red having been somehow nourished by the stalwart plant that insisted on putting forth its bounty. I wanted to take them right inside and make a sandwich so that I could claim that old and worn-out plants could offer the yummiest fruit! Then I could imagine that the same could be said for humans. Can you tell – I’m feeling old. Old and nonproductive. The plant gave me hope.

But oh, what a day it is! While sitting out on the back deck I am reveling in the wind – strong, cool, and causing the tall trees in the woods to sway in time with the flowers in the garden. It is one of those days in which all of nature is announcing its vibrant presence, dancing its joy and singing its exuberance. The cirrus clouds are floating across the sky at a good pace while the blue surrounding them hints of contentment and peace.

Joel just returned from an errand and told me he thinks that the hummingbirds and the butterflies are gone for the year. Just as he returned inside, two butterflies, one monarch and perhaps a fritillary, flew down into the zinnia patch, and a lady hummingbird fought the wind to position itself on the feeder. At the same time, a bumblebee nearly as big as my thumb, went from bloom to bloom in the purple phlox and a dragonfly zoomed by. I have never been all that fond of flying insects, but I am starting to love these little creatures that brighten the garden as they help it to thrive. Joel has been sending them loving energy for years. Perhaps that is what keeps them populating our yard.

As I rest in all the beauty of this late summer afternoon, I think again about those dry old tomato plants. They are still bearing fruit because that is what they are created to do. It is not always easy to know what we human types are meant to do, especially in our later lives. But as another butterfly finds shelter from the wind in the phlox, it may be that it is no more complicated than that. We can seek shelter and nourishment in the wonder of all of creation. Should anything ripen inside of us, despite our condition of aging, we can still offer it to the world. In fact, it is that very condition that can lead us to novel discovery. We may find an unexpected and delightful sweetness.

MILESTONE

September 4, 2026

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

For those of us who haven’t had children, it is easy to lose track of the passage of time. Having not closely observed an infant become a toddler become a kindergartner become an adolescent and so on, we are not watching closely how time is changing us. We seem to somehow “remain the same.” Years go by and we are shocked by the cards wishing us a happy 50th or 60th and beyond! I did not get a happy 70th birthday card this year. Perhaps my friends were trying to shield me from the shock.

My sister, who has a grandchild now in college, has been eased (my word) into age another way, by marking the milestones of her four granddaughters. As she ages, she has so many events to celebrate with them that life changes are marked by parties (she throws a good one!) and not by added wrinkles and aching joints. She and my other dear siblings with children seem to stay young along with them. I, on the other hand, have done so by denial.

That is until the last three and a half years. Since when have I started to count in half years again? Does this trait of the very young resurface when we get old? (I fought putting a “very” in front of the old there!) All of a sudden, the half years have meaning again. I think it started at 69. I was inching toward the next birthday and wanted to drag it out as long as possible. Well, it’s a year later and I realize it doesn’t really work. Seventy and a half years old might as well be seventy-one, both somewhat alarming to me.

Between three and four years ago, I retired from full-time pastoral ministry, the first personal milestone celebrated in a long time. But unlike other benchmarks, this one felt an ending more than a beginning. Within two months, my body broke down leading to three serious surgeries, but thanks to good medical care, Joel’s love, and God’s presence, I am still here. So instead of being alarmed by the number on the birthday card, I am truly grateful.

Last week, Joel and I saw a beautiful documentary about poet Mary Oliver entitled “Saved by the World.” It brought to mind one of her most quoted lines: “Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I was reminded that life isn’t any less wild and precious at seventy than it is at ten or twenty or more. In fact, the richness of my days continues to deepen as I attend to and drink in the creation around me. Life has just as much if not more mysterious beauty in it as it had before. Perhaps this is a milestone worth celebrating. Maybe I’ll throw a party!

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“WANING” (?)

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” January 6, 2024

A pretty quarter moon hovers over me as I write this morning. It is a waning moon, raising the question: What things are waning in my life these days? When I write this blog, I tend to focus on growth and addition, not contraction and diminishment. Perhaps that word, diminishment, is part of the problem. It hints at a lessening, a negative event, when maybe there are many ways that our lives enhanced by becoming somehow less, smaller, more circumscribed.

I am finding that growing older is an experience of waning, at least for me. The most obvious evidence of this is in comparing my appointment calendar of 2022 to the one of 2023. Now the first year of retirement is bound to have fewer engagements than the one before, having little to do with the reality of aging. Also, having major surgery in a year is bound to slow one down. But I did spend whole weeks without seeing anyone at all, except Joel of course. To be honest, that slower pace, having many periods of wide open days, seemed to suit me. It may be that growing older is allowing me to settle into my introverted nature a bit more, withhout an ounce of guilt! I could have been more actively engaged with others, but chose not to.

Accompanying the longer stretches of solitude, came more mindfulness in conversation, and thus the waning of idle chatter, perhaps a more judicious use of words. I have experienced conversation to be more intentional, with a larger purpose than just “talk”. It may be as we age we are less likely to want to stay on the surface with people. Teenage gabfests with friends were very enjoyable as were grad school “debates” about anything, but I really have no interest in repeating them. I feel a deeper urgency to get to the heart of things, to the heart of myself and others, and this seems to require less verbiage and more silences. Does this mean my social self is waning while something else is waxing? I don’t really know.

What else is waning thse days? I wish I could say it is my need to “please” people, but sady that seems to be hanging on. All wrapped up with caring about what others think of me, I’m afraid these will be two of my last ego traits to fall! But the good news is the more I can observe my thought patterns in the silence and solitude, the more I recognize it when these habits take over. I can, if I will it, stop!

One thing that has surprised me as I turn sixty-eight this week is that I have lost none of my drive to grow and perhaps have even increased in my ability to make personal changes. I am learning that the older I become, the less adamant I am to hold on to the old ways I used to think. Growing up I heard a lot about old people supposedly “stuck in their ways.” In my pastoral work I have found this to be more true of the young and the middle-aged than it is of their elders. Now, I am ready to learn new ways of being and thinking, my insistence on former ways is waning. Growing older is much more exciting than I thought!

TMI

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

Spoiler Alert! I am about to write about undergarments, so if this is too intimate a topic to come from someone who may be your former pastor or spiritual guide, skip this post. It is what is on my mind, and as you know by now, I always start where I am.

Yesterday, I broke my first retirement promise to myself. I had vowed that I would never wear a bra again! I have hated them ever since my first purchase in adolescence. The feel of anything tight or restricting on any part of my body has always given me a sinking feeling as if I were being punished for something I did not do. Made to sit in the corner, when I longed to run around. People have often asked me why I always wear loose and flowing clothing. No, it has had nothing to do with wanting to hide my body. I just wanted for this body to feel easy and free!

So, what happened yesterday? I was following instructions. The nurses in cardiac care said that women who have bypass would need to bring a front closure bra with good support to aide in healing after surgery. So I went to “City Drawers,” the trendy little lingerie shop in downtown Belfast. At 67, I had my first real bra fitting! First, I was shocked by the actual size I was (now that really would be too much information), and then by the garment I was brought. It had so many eyes and hooks down the front and the back, it looked like an instrument of torture. (No offense to “City Drawers,” the rest of the merchandise looks just lovely!) It took me forever to put it on. The very sweet saleswoman came to check on me. “Perfect” she said. So I left the store with this beige contraption that looked as if it came from my greatgrandmother’s underwear drawer.

When I got home, I took it 0ut of its cute little bag and wondered if this thing was truly going to help me heal. Even looking at it, I feel old and depressed. Luckily, I did order from Amazon two cute nightshirts that button up the front as we were instructed to have. I will not be able to put anything over my head for a while. I do feel like myself in them with lots of room to breathe.

We head down to Portland the day after tomorrow for surgery prep with the operation on Friday. I have been assured that friends will be looking after Joel, who though he never shows it, is a huge worrier, and that I will be accompanied by a boatload of prayers. I have an excellent surgeon and good insurance. So, I guess it is a blessing that my biggest worry this morning is whether I will really have to wear that bra. I will be fighting it with all the strength I will have…