The other day, my 80-year-old mother called me while she was on holiday and walking along the coast. As we chatted, she suddenly confessed that she had the strange urge to walk along a tiny wall edging the path, barely six inches from the ground.
Then she hesitated.
“I’d look stupid,” she said.
Yet funnily enough, at that exact moment, she could see my father further ahead happily balancing along it himself.
“Well then go for it!” I told her -- giving her the same advice she'd have given me! “It would be far more ridiculous to miss the chance.”
After all, this was the same woman who, as a child, used to skip along a genuinely perilous harbor wall without a second thought.
Something in my response seemed to unlock another small confession, one in which I could hear a blend of nostalgia, and a desire to just have fun.
“I’d also quite like a swing in the garden,” she admitted.
And honestly, why shouldn’t she? So I told my DIY-savvy dad to get his tools out when he got back home and build mum that swing!
It was a story that stayed with me a while, and made me reflect on the whole aging process. There is something rather sad about the invisible moment many people seem to cross as they grow older, where they quietly begin denying themselves small joys because they no longer feel age permits them. Somewhere along the line, society subtly teaches older people to become permanently sensible. Careful. Reserved. Practical.
Of course, there are realities that come with aging. Bodies slow down. Energy changes. Health concerns appear. Families understandably become protective. Yet in trying to keep elderly loved ones safe, it is possible to unintentionally communicate something else too: that spontaneity, silliness, curiosity, and adventure now belong to younger generations.
Embrace the inner child!
But perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can offer older relatives is permission not to shrink emotionally as they age. Not childishness, of course, but childlikeness. The distinction matters.
Children delight in small things instinctively. They still balance along walls simply because it feels fun. They swing high enough to feel the wind on their face -- and perhaps with the trepidation that they'll fly over the upper bar. They laugh loudly. They remain curious. They notice birdsong, funny-shaped clouds, tiny details others walk past without seeing.
And in many ways, the Christian life has always valued precisely those qualities. Christ Himself tells His followers to become “like little children,” not in maturity, but in openness, trust, wonder, and joy. Perhaps growing older gracefully does not mean abandoning those things, but protecting them.
That may look different depending on the person. For one elderly relative, it might mean encouraging them to dance at a family wedding instead of sitting politely in the corner. For another, it could be buying paints at the age of 85, getting a water pistol and squirting it at the grandkids, taking the scenic route home and getting lost (deliberately!), feeding the ducks, singing loudly in the car, or finally saying yes to the garden swing.
Savor the simple pleasures
Importantly, this is not about pretending old age does not exist. Nor is it about pressuring seniors to remain artificially youthful in a culture already obsessed with anti-aging. In fact, many older people possess something younger generations often lack entirely: perspective, gratitude, patience, and the ability to savor simple pleasures deeply.
But joy still needs oxygen.
And sometimes elderly loved ones simply need reassurance that delight is still available to them. That they are still allowed to play, to try, to laugh, to wobble slightly along the tiny wall by the sea without fearing they look ridiculous.
Because perhaps one of the quiet tragedies of aging is not growing old itself, but beginning to believe that wonder is no longer meant for you.
Yet some of the most beautiful older people are precisely those who resist that temptation. The super seniors who still marvel at flowers. Who wave at dogs in the street. Who dress in head-to-toe pink. Who paddle barefoot in the sea. Who retain a kind of spiritual lightness despite everything life has placed upon them.
And there is something deeply hopeful about that sort of aging. Perhaps that is partly because joy, curiosity, and wonder were never really signs of youth to begin with. They are signs of a soul that has remained alive.
And now I'm going to video call my dad and see if that swing is up and running!
