Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear old me,
I’m writing this at sixty, and I do not want to be a centenarian. If you are reading this letter, then God obviously had other plans.
Of course, it’s not up to me how long I live, except to the extent that healthy habits prolong my (our) life.
It was hard in our fifties to accept the physical signs of aging. I hope you are comfortable in your skin, no matter how wrinkly it is.
Remember that time in our forties when we were tutoring at the middle school and a kid said, “Hey, old lady!” We had a good laugh at that. Kent loved that story.
I expect that you are far wiser than your sixty-year old self, so I have only one piece of advice for you. Let other people help you. I know you want to be independent, but you aren’t as strong physically as you once were. Remember how much Cindy loved caring for the elderly?
I am sorry for all the losses you’ve experienced. I can’t know who you will outlive, but at 100, you’ve outlived so many loved ones. You miss them. I don’t even want to think about it.
As I look ahead to my later years, I pray that I will make a difference in the lives of many people. I pray that I will have an inner beauty that doesn’t fade with time. That’s how I imagine you, a gentle and quiet spirit.
Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
1 Peter 3:4-5
Finally, I want to thank you. It may be weird to thank yourself, but being thought weird never stopped us. Thank you for caring about other people. You are just an ordinary person, but I just know you will be remembered fondly for being kind.
Love, me.