There is a tipping point when you realize you have lived more of your life than you have left to live.
Instead of a “tipping point,” some would argue it feels more like a “tripping point.” Feet begin to shuffle, as well as memories. Daily tasks require more concerted effort, and spontaneity sputters like an engine running out of gas. We look in the mirror and see a vintage model — not in the condition we would prefer.
Older adults have many miles behind them, but still have more to go.
But where do we go from here?
Where does one go when they have already lived a lifetime of “firsts” and “lasts”?
Most older people have fallen in love and experienced kisses and heartbreaks. Many have outlived their favorite pet. Others have raised their kids, who now have kids of their own. Some have already said their hardest goodbye — a loved one they yearn to reunite with in Heaven.
As we age, we realize how much time we’ve invested in wearing multiple hats: child, sibling, spouse, parent, provider, fixer, pleaser, lover, friend, worker, caretaker, and so on.
As years dwindle, so does the number of hats.
Everything thins with time, from our possessions to our skin. Homes and friend circles become smaller. Car keys hang on the hook longer as trips become less frequent. Fewer plates are set at the table, if we even eat at the table anymore.
I was visiting a relative in a senior living facility when their elevator was out due to a sensor malfunction. Residents could leave and return to their apartments only via the emergency stairwell: a grey concrete conduit that echoed voices from the first to the fourth floor. I entered the stairwell to see a woman twice my size trying to go down two flights of stairs, leaning heavily on her walker — it was a tragedy in the making.
By the time I reached the woman, I had imagined her falling and breaking her hip or neck. As I helped her down the stairs, I tried to distract her from the insanity of our efforts. I asked if it was imperative that she get out of her apartment that day or if she could wait until the elevator was fixed. She told me the elevators had been down for days, and she needed groceries.
She had no one nearby to help, and she had waited as long as possible.
By the time we descended the final step, the only thing not shaking was her walker — she and I were a wreck. She declined my offer to help further, but the situation bothered me for the rest of the day. Once she shopped, I pondered how this woman was going to get her groceries to her apartment. What if there were others in her predicament?
Trying to sleep that night, I kept thinking of the woman in the stairwell.
Who was she?
To me, she was a stranger in need.
Yet, I could picture her as a young lady, perhaps a vibrant mother of strapping boys. I imagined her in childhood as a tomboy, fishing in her grandaddy’s stock pond by day and chasing lightning bugs to display in Mason jars at night. Whoever she was, I knew she did not belong alone in a stairwell that felt more like a cold tomb. She did not deserve to be without help. No one deserves this.
Last spring, I visited a resident in a nursing home. We talked about new blooms outside her window and the budding trees. She corrected me on the name of a flower, and I remember thinking that this woman knows her stuff! Later in our conversation, I understood why: gardening had been her passion. I looked at her contorted hands and wondered how she dealt with losing her ability to garden in her later years.
“Arthritis,” she said as she caught me looking at her hands. My face went pale as her face brightened with cheer. “I’m so glad I made good use of my hands while I could.” This woman looked at her aged, stiff, and painful hands with thankfulness, not disappointment.
Her remark humbled me to my core.
As we dip our toes into the remaining days of 2025 and move into 2026, let us celebrate simplicity, authenticity, acceptance, and kindness. Practice love and patience with yourself and others. Use the energy, gifts, and talents God bestowed upon you today to cultivate beauty and appreciation that transcends beyond the “tipping point” and into a life of abundant gratefulness.
Where do we go from here?
The answer is simple: Wherever God leads.
Whether in a stairwell, a gas station, an office, or our home — wherever we are is our mission field.
More miles are left to be traveled, and there are people we have yet to meet. 2026 will undoubtedly bring bumps and detours, but we know who creates the path; God’s provision and favor are upon us, and blessings await us today and in our tomorrows.
We can trust that we have not used all our “firsts” or “lasts” because God is creative, loving, forgiving, and generous. He has gifted us a new year ahead — a fresh book to be written. May the first to the last page of 2026 be filled with joy and peace.
Blessings to you today and always.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. For more inspirational articles, follow ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.
