This Tuesday I am turning 60 years old!  I don’t look it, they tell me, but I think I feel like I’m 60.  I can feel all the years of learning and listening that have enriched my life.  I can feel the thousands of delicious meals I’ve been blessed to eat and the millions of laughs and tears I’ve had that brought me closer to people.  My flabby muscles and stretch marks are there because I was fortunate enough to birth five precious children into the world.  The bags under my eyes attest to all the sleep I missed in order to take care of friends and family.  I feel the creaks and aches in my joints that remind me of the countless miles I’ve walked and stairs I’ve climbed to see the world. I feel all the wrinkles in my brow from worrying more than I should.  Because I smiled many more times than that, I have crows feet around the eyes and smile lines at my mouth.  My breasts have lost their youthful shape because I nursed five children and my legs have varicosed veins because I didn’t have much time to put my feet up.  My hands are wrinkled from washing a million dishes, clothes, faces, countertops, tubs and toilets and swollen from the multitude of hours sewing and knitting.  I feel 60 and I earned every one of the signs those years have left.  I’m a grandma, married to a grandpa for 39 of those 60 years. So on Tuesday I am going to celebrate my 60th birthday and that’s OK with me because too many people never get to live this long.   Besides, when I start to feel old, I just think about my Mom.  She’s going to be 86 next month!