Then there was this time, it was my birthday, and I was out doing a little light shopping. I stepped into a local shop I enjoy and right there, front and center, was a huge banner hanging up that read, “Happy Birthday!” I immediately froze.
Now, I’m not one to shy away from celebration, but in that moment, I became acutely aware of the potential ambush that could’ve been waiting behind every shelf. My eyes darted around the store, subtly scanning for friends crouched behind displays, ready to leap out and shout, “Surprise!” at the top of their lungs.
But nothing happened.
Still playing along, I gathered a few items and made my way to the counter. With a playful grin I said to the clerk, “How did you know?” She tilted her head and replied, “Know what?” I pointed to the banner and asked, “That today is my birthday?”
It turned out the banner wasn’t for me after all. The shop owner and I just happened to share the same birthday. They called him up to the front so we could meet. I recognized him, we’d seen each other before, but neither of us knew we were “birthday twins,” as the staff was now calling us. We shook hands, had a good laugh, and exchanged birthday blessings.
He asked how old I was. I asked him the same. “I’m 46,” he said.
“Well,” I smiled, “I’m twenty years your senior; 66.” “No way!” he said. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I figured you were just a few years older; four, maybe five. But twenty? No way.” (Confirmation note: “twenty” is two dimes. See previous post. Thanks, Dad.)
In my mind, I wanted to respond, “I only look so young because I follow Jesus, so… Yaweh!” But I held that one back. Instead, I said, “Well then, my birthday wish for you is that you look as young as I do when you’re my age.”
We laughed. We were both grateful to be “on the right side of the dirt,” and he even gave me a birthday gift for supporting his shop. A true birthday blessing for both of us.
He introduced me to some others in the store, sharing the same question: “Can you believe he’s twenty years older than me?” Their response? “No way.” This time, I did let it slip: “Yaweh.”
It was a fun moment, but it carried a deeper realization; age really is just a number.
I’ve learned that how old you are is not necessarily how old you seem. There’s the age tracked by candles on your cake, and there’s the age you carry in your energy, your posture, your presence.
I’ve chosen to live my life around people who defy the norms of aging. Many of the vibrant seniors I spend time with are in their nineties. Some are pushing a hundred and still hunting, fishing, riding dirt bikes and four-wheelers, gardening, and working the land, operating heavy equipment mind you, and they move with purpose. They laugh freely. They live fully.
One of them, at 96, led his sons on a mountain hike, and they struggled to keep up with him. That’s not just aging well. That’s redefining what aging looks like.
Now, compare that with many of my peers, people my age or younger, who are slowing down, settling into couches, being ushered into medical appointments, and talking more about what they can’t do than what they can. About 15% of the people I graduated with are already gone. And many who are still around are gearing up for hospice.
And yet, I don’t feel like I belong in either category. I’ve had encounters where people my age don’t relate to me at all. Case in point: just a few months ago I took an empty seat at a bar. Two guys on my left, three on my right. A man to my left mentioned he graduated in 1977, same as me. Another chimed in, and soon they were all reminiscing and joking about the good ol’ days.
I tried to join the conversation, but they weren’t having it. I persisted, thinking it was just a matter of timing. Eventually, all five of them picked up and moved to a table across the room, leaving me sitting there.
The bartender caught the whole thing. I turned to him and said, “You saw that?” He nodded. “Yep.” “Isn’t that interesting?” I said. He looked at me and said, “You might be the same age as them, but you don’t look like it or sound like it. I guess you just don’t fit in.” Still not sure if that was a compliment or not.
And maybe that’s what happens when you decide to live differently, when you don’t buy into the idea that aging must come with decline.
When I tell people I plan on living to 120, they think I’ve lost my mind. “Why would I want to rot in a nursing home for another 30 years?” they say. But that’s not the vision I hold. Because they don’t know what I know. They haven’t met my vibrant near-centenarian friends.
I made the decision long ago to live clean, healthy, and vibrant. At the time, I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like the others. And through the years, I’ve learned so much. Applied new principles. Removed toxins. Introduced practices that support energy, vitality, and clarity. I feel better today than I did decades ago.
And I believe I’ll feel even better tomorrow.
But I’ll tell you this: your beliefs shape your future. If you believe aging must equal decline, that’s the reality you’ll build. If you believe in the possibility of lifelong youth, vitality, and joy, then you start building something entirely different.
The choice is yours.
I’ve made mine. And I’m grateful, blessed, and full of life.
Yaweh.
Live your life like it matters… because it does.
~ David M. Masters
P.S. This didn’t happen back in the day. It happened today.
