This me as a young Mom.  I remember this person vaguely.  Recently I read an article about comparing yourself with others.  Yes, I do that like many women.  However, I have found myself comparing me now to the me I used to be.  


Getting older was never a big deal for me.  At age sixteen I had gray hair, so when my friends got their first gray hair at thirty years of age that was no big deal for me.  Been there and done that kind of thing.  


Earlier this year my doctor (who is my age) commented on my health.  He wanted me to take a new medication and I did not want ANOTHER to my growing pile of medicines.  His comment was, “You are 60 years old.  That means you have at least another twenty to twenty five years of life.”  




I never really thought of my life that way.  


What I have thought of though, lots of times, is that following breast cancer a few years ago and the subsequent radiation and chemical therapy for five years (the daily pill kind not the chemical in your blood king) I want the me I used to be.  Getting up sometimes is overwhelming.  Just getting out of bed, with the joints not wanting to work, with the bones hurting, with no breath. . . 


I remember that woman — she had energy, grit determination . . . life.


Some days I do in fact have that woman inside of me . . . 


My prayers are that whatever I have left (the 20 years or so) that woman is inside of me combined with the new woman that knows to live life more fully in the moment than ever before.  


I want to live all that God has for me, for however long He has it for me, and those days when it is so incredibly difficult to get out of bed (physically) I trust He will give me the strength to carry on in His will.