It’s strange: I flip up the lid of my laptop and, just before the screen lights up, I see a clear reflection of my face. I see an oldish guy—not old; oldish. I see wrinkles that weren’t there once; I see glasses over eyes that don’t see very well (that haven’t seen well since 8th grade, to be blunt). I see gray hair and bags under the eyes. ‘Bags’ is, perhaps, too strong a word. ‘Satchels,’ maybe. No, that’s worse. ‘Fanny packs.’ That’s horrible. ‘Coin purses’—nice. ‘Coin purses’ under the eyes. The bottom line is: that’s an older guy in the reflection than used to be there.
But you know what? I don’t care. I’m not experiencing a mid-life crisis like so, so many guys my age are.
I attribute that entirely to Jesus Christ. Thanks to Him, I know that the chronological age of my body doesn’t mean so much. I should remain aware of it, of course, but inside is the same soul, washed clean by Baptism, configured to the Holy Spirit to receive all the grace I could possibly need in order to attain to everlasting life.
I keep thinking about The Dark Knight Rises, when Batman gets the inevitable, tragic beating at the hands of Bane that you know must come; I hear Bane’s mocking tone when Batman struggles to his feet even though there is no hope of victory: “I wondered which would break first! Your spirit…or your body!” My body breaks. My spirit stays with Christ. In Christ, my body will rise on the last day and be made greater than it has ever been, and remain that way forever.
So, I don’t worry about a few wrinkles. I don’t feel a mid-life crisis. In fact, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.