Thursday Th(ink)s - April 9, 2026

Thursday sits in the week like a woman who knows exactly what’s for supper. She’s prepared.

Capable. Busy. Too busy, in fact, to stop and think about Thursday…or supper.

Here I am, living my Thursday years, saying something rather ridiculous:

“I don’t have time to age.”

Which is curious, because aging didn’t ask for my opinion, and it’s moving at a speed I’m not

entirely comfortable with.

I’m busy. That’s my defense. Weak, I know.

This week Hubs and I are at our NorCal cabin, deep in the Sierra. We have a little Miss with us

because she’s turning six, and everyone knows that when you turn six you get six days alone

with Grandma and Grandpa—Bedste and Pops—at the cabin. Everyone knows that. But it

mostly only matters to our three grandchildren.

This morning, before dawn had even smiled through the window, a little girl was smiling in my

face.

“Up! Let’s go!”

Yes, of course. Just let me—

“No! Now!”

Yes, okay, but—

“Now!”

So now.

I’m busy picking out the perfect branch for a hiking stick.

Busy sitting at the edge of the pond, bare feet splashing, waking up the fish.

Busy hauling the hose to the redbud tree.

Busy setting up finger paints.

Busy cutting strawberries, carrots, and apples—taking the leavings to our “secret” deer feeder.

Busy…begging for a nap.

But I’m too busy.

My body is whispering, “We need to talk.”

I suspect it’s going to tell me I’m too old for this.

But am I?

I don’t think so.

I’m busy being alive in all the right ways, and I don’t have time to age.

And yet.

Aging is not something that waits politely for an opening in the calendar.

It doesn’t send a text. It doesn’t ask, “Would Tuesday at 2:00 work for you?” It simply arrives.

On time. Persistent. Like a credit card statement reminding me I may need to stop spending on

the grandchildren.

It shows up in the mirror I pass too quickly.

In the way I assess the height of a curb.

In how tired I am after a day with a newly-baked six-year-old.

No trumpet blast. Just a steady monotonous hum like background music in the elevator.

Always there. Always moving me up.

I am not who I was.

But, goodness and knees knows, I am who I am.

It seems, I’m newly-baked too.

I’ve never lived this Thursday season before. There is newness around every corner, even here,

even now.

My little declaration—“I don’t have time to age”—is catchy, but it subtly robs me of something.

It takes away the gift of time.

Time to number my days.

Time to consider them.

Time to grow wise.

When I was younger, I didn’t have time to think about aging.

That was true then.

But it must not be true now.

I don’t have time to ignore aging.

There’s work to do.

And a little Miss who wants to go back to the creek.

And I say, “Yes!” But after a nap.

Big Brains: "While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about." -Angela Schwindt

Old Souls: “Have patience with all things, But, first of all with yourself.” ~Saint Francis de Sales

The Ancient of Days: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Psalm 90:12 (ESV)

Norma Jean:
I’ve never lived this Thursday season before. There is newness around every corner, even here, even now.

Thursday Chat: How can we gift ourselves time to age? I’d love to hear from you…drop a line in the comments.