Sixty years is one of those zero milestones, you know. So I’m remembering.
I remember when I was about 30, standing in the large auditorium of my fundamentalist church holding my baby, looking around at the people and thinking, “Where are all those older women who are supposed to be helping me?” They appeared to all be so busy with their own lives and activities.
Then I thought, “I want to become that woman. I want to be an older woman to help the younger.” I set my sights on the age of 50 to accomplish it. I planned out how I would study all the books of the Bible thoroughly by then so I would know the Word of God really well and could teach it. I would talk to younger women about how to keep a house clean and clutter-free, because surely by then I would have figured it out, I would have conquered that Goliath in my life. Continue reading