What I am discovering in my old age is gratitude. Gratitude for longevity. Seventy-nine years are nothing to sneeze at.
Gratitude for the service of this body that God has endowed me with and that has served me for almost eighty years.
Gratitude that I am still able to walk, though, mind you, it is at a slower pace. Gratitude for the medical advances that can help with diminishing eyesight and hearing and that ease stiff limbs.
There is joy in knowing that I don’t have to keep up with younger folks who run ahead of me on a hike. There is joy

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