I am little worried about my parents coming for Thanksgiving.  The last time my Mother saw me she hugged and kissed me like always, but then backed away, and said, “You know son, you’re not a young man anymore.” 

That was not news to me, frankly.  The problem with transitioning into middle age is that you step in gradually.  You start with one or two gray hairs, which is fine because you can pull those out.  But before you know it, you either dye your hair or let it go white.  I ask my son’s girlfriend for her opinion on the color of my sideburns.  She answered correctly, “White.”

“And do you know what that means?” I asked.

“Purity,” she said.

“Well, thank you very much,” I said.  “It also means wisdom.”  I hope that my gray hair increasingly will be my splendor, as Proverbs 20:29 says.

One of my pastor friends told me the critical aspect of making it through his fifties is recognizing what stage he’s in.  He smiled and proceeded to tell me he’s in the tired stage.  Several couples in his church are on the verge of divorce.  Other couples are struggling to get their children out of the nest.  And some in his congregation just finished raising their kids only to discover their aging parents need constant attention. 

Speaking tenderly of his bedraggled flock, my friend wonders if he should stay in the ministry.  “They say I have arrived.  Is this what I signed on for?” he asked.  He’s like the cartoon that appeared in “The New Yorker.”  The husband turns to his wife during breakfast and says, “The egg timer is pinging.  The toaster is popping.  The coffeepot is perking.  Is this it, Alice?  Is this the great American dream?”

The Tired Stage must be a first cousin to the Ache Stage, a stage in which I’ve become a community leader.  I’m still nursing an Achilles tendon I strained playing basketball more than a year ago.  Just when you start thinking about leaving a legacy you’re hit with your own mortality.  Indeed, the thought strikes you that some of your life’s dreams may never be realized.

It’s vital for those in mid-life, or any kind of stressful transition, to take care of the obvious.  Eat well; exercise regularly; get plenty of rest.  For me, it means all that plus sitting down early in the morning to read the Bible and pray, even on those days when I have no time or do not feel like it.  After finishing my Bible reading recently, I opened my journal to write profound thoughts.  I came up with these five words: “Hi God.  How are you?” 

Sometimes transition times mean lowering expectations.  This is good to remember during holidays.  It takes a long time to trust that things usually work out without me endlessly spinning my wheels.

For some reason, people in transition tend to hide.  No one will hurt me if I pull inside my shell and hide, I reason.  Instead, I hurt myself and lose confidence, rather than gaining it.  Hiding is the worst thing you can do when you’re in a time of flux.  You don’t have to divulge to everyone, but you have to trust that your closest friends are for you, not against you.

Just because a person may have lost his sense of direction doesn’t mean he can’t get help.  I know pastors who were depressed until they started taking anti-depressants.  Do you find that odd?  You shouldn’t.  Pastors are not God, even if they think they are.  There’s no reason for them, or for you, to feel shame if they can get themselves some help. 

Trying to save the world may be noble, and I have known pastors who thought that was there job.  Hard work I admire, but lighten up folks.  Taking a day at a time is a better plan.  Sooner or later reality hits.  Transition time comes.  The Biblical writer James reminds us that our life is like the morning fog – it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.  “What you ought to say is, ‘If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.’” (James 3:15)

Sometimes the best thing you can do in transition is patiently wait.  The prophet Isaiah encourages active waiting:  “Those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. … They will run and not grow weary.  They will walk and not faint.”