When I Say My Age Out Loud
June 13, 2026
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Mostly because every once in a while, I say mine out loud and still feel slightly surprised by it. Sixty-four. Cue the Beatles song.
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Mostly because every once in a while, I say mine out loud and still feel slightly surprised by it. Sixty-four. Cue the Beatles song.
Beginning again used to sound like something dramatic to me. But lately, I’m realizing it often looks much more ordinary: noticing when I’ve drifted, reacted, or carried something longer than I needed to — and learning how to come back without turning it into failure.
I used to think peace meant reaching a place where nothing could throw me off anymore. Lately, I’m learning it may have more to do with not staying stuck there as long.
Sometimes awareness begins when a phrase we’ve said for years suddenly stays with us longer than expected. A reflection on humor, language, intent, impact, and the gray areas in between.
This reflection explores the subtle shift that can happen when something that began as honest expression starts feeling like something that needs to be managed, improved, or made to grow. It is an honest look at how care, pressure, and self-consciousness can quietly pull us away from what made something feel real in the first place.
Real change rarely looks dramatic. More often, it looks like getting frustrated, noticing it sooner, and learning how to come back again in ordinary moments.
For a long time, I wanted to be seen as the one who was excelling. This reflection explores how the need to appear capable, wise, or put together can sometimes be fear in disguise, and how healing asks for honesty instead of performance.
A month from today, my memoir will be released. There’s excitement in that, but what I didn’t fully anticipate is the quiet vulnerability that comes with knowing people will soon be able to read a very honest account of my life.
In 2004, a backdraft tore through the church I served as a pastor. I walked away unharmed, but the moment uncovered deeper truths I wouldn’t face until years later in recovery. This week’s reflection explores what that day revealed—and what life is still teaching me now.
When the clocks turn back and the days grow shorter, it’s easy to feel like something’s slipping away. But these darker days remind us to pause, to look back just long enough to learn — and then to return our eyes to the road ahead, moving forward with a little more peace and presence.
