I’ve been thinking about change.
It actually came out of one of those conversations where you start talking about one thing, wander into three or four others, and later something somebody said is still bouncing around in your head.
I seem to have quite a few of those conversations these days.
And somewhere along the way, somebody will inevitably say something like:
“I’m too old to change.”
I’ve probably said it myself.
At 60, there are certainly things about me that are pretty well set. I know what I like. I know what I don’t like. I have opinions, habits, routines, and probably a few quirks that aren’t going anywhere without a court order.
But the more I’ve thought about it, the less I’m convinced that any of us ever really get to be too old to change.
Because life keeps changing whether we volunteer for it or not.
We change jobs. We retire. Our families change. Our friendships change. People come into our lives and people leave them. Our children grow up and make lives of their own. Technology changes faster than some of us can figure out which button we’re supposed to push.
Our beliefs and priorities can change too.
And sometimes our health changes the rules without even having the courtesy to ask permission.
I’ve learned a little about that one recently.
Lung cancer, surgery, chemotherapy, and some of the physical limitations that followed weren’t changes I chose. I didn’t wake up one morning and think, You know what would really shake things up around here? Cancer.
But it changed things.
It changed when I retired. It changed some of what my body will let me do. It changed how I think about time. And I’m still figuring out what some of those changes mean.
Maybe that’s partly why I’ve started looking at change differently.
Some changes are choices.
If I’m unhappy with a job, I might try to make the situation better. I might accept it for what it is. Or I might start looking for something different.
Of course, that’s easier said than done. Mortgages, health insurance, families, and that inconvenient need to continue eating have a way of complicating things.
Still, there’s usually some choice buried in there somewhere.
Then there are changes we don’t choose.
Someone else makes a decision.
A family member chooses a path different from the one we might have imagined for them.
A friend develops beliefs that aren’t the same as ours.
A workplace changes direction.
Someone we have known for years tells us something we weren’t expecting.
Or life simply drops something in our lap and says, “Here you go. Deal with this.”
We don’t control all of that.
But we usually have some control over what we do next.
And maybe that’s the part of change I’ve been thinking about the most.
Acceptance doesn’t necessarily mean agreement.
I can disagree with someone and still care about them.
I can listen to another point of view without surrendering my own.
I can accept that another adult gets to make choices I wouldn’t necessarily make.
And I can recognize that something being different from what I expected doesn’t automatically make it a problem that needs to be fixed.
That’s easier to write than it is to actually do.
There are things worth standing our ground over. There are principles worth keeping. There are situations we shouldn’t tolerate. There are times when moving on really is the right answer.
But not every difference needs to become a battle.
Sometimes we seem to spend an awful lot of energy trying to change things that aren’t ours to change in the first place.
Other people’s opinions.
Other people’s decisions.
Other people’s priorities.
And occasionally things that simply aren’t going back to the way they used to be, no matter how much we’d prefer they did.
Maybe age is supposed to help us with that.
I have conversations these days with people of different ages, backgrounds, experiences, and beliefs. We don’t always agree.
Sometimes not even close.
But I’ve discovered something I really enjoy about those conversations.
Someone can say something I completely disagree with and still make me think.
I don’t necessarily walk away saying, “Well, I guess I was wrong.”
Sometimes I walk away thinking, “I still don’t agree with that, but I understand a little better why you do.”
There’s value in that.
And maybe that’s a kind of change too.
When I was younger, I probably thought that at some point I’d have everything figured out.
I’m 60.
Still waiting.
What I have figured out is that the person I am today isn’t exactly the person I was at 20, 30, 40, or even 50.
Some of those changes I chose.
Some came from experience.
Some came from mistakes.
Some came from people I’ve met.
Some came from listening.
And some were handed to me whether I wanted them or not.
So maybe “I’m too old to change” isn’t really true.
Maybe we’re always changing.
The real question is what we do with it.
I don’t have to abandon everything I believe whenever the world around me changes. But I can reconsider an opinion. I can listen. I can ask questions. I can admit when I’m wrong.
And I can decide that some differences simply aren’t important enough to become barriers between me and people who matter to me.
The older I get, the more important that last one seems.
Maybe that’s one of the benefits of age.
You begin to realize that you have a limited amount of time and energy, and perhaps you become a little more selective about what deserves either one.
I’m still working on that.
Probably always will be.
But I’ve been thinking…
Maybe getting older isn’t about becoming too old to change.
Maybe it’s about finally becoming old enough to know what needs changing, what deserves accepting, and what simply isn’t worth allowing to get between us.
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