When you’re a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could totally do that.

Before you hibernate, you’re supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could totally do that too.

When you’re a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts, the big ones are about a pound) while you’re sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute, cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you’re a momma bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who messes with your cubs, and if your cubs get out of line you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you’re a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat. Yep, I’d make a good bear.

Now, I’d like to take credit for all this cuteness and wonderful comparisons to nature, but I can’t.

I heard it first from Mary Roberts last week as she opened my Bible study session. She said she usually looks for things to make people laugh that go along with the study materials for the day. “I’m just going to tell you up front,” she said. “I’m telling you this one just because I think it’s so cute.” She said it had been sent to her in an e-mail, and while she normally doesn’t forward or pay a lot of attention to them, she did read this one and loved it.

I loved it too. Enough so that I took the time to investigate the life of the American Black Bear (Ursus Americanus). It’s true about child birth during sleep. The little cubs nurse from their sleeping mom and find their warmth from her body while they grow their own fur.

It’s merely one more piece of evidence that our universe has been planned in every detail by a higher being. Bears don’t experience bone loss during those long periods of inactivity and they also don’t take bathroom breaks during their months of sleep.

Scientists are puzzled by these two features. Research has led to isolating a chemical in the bear’s blood that may prevent bone loss and could ultimately lend itself to treating human osteoporosis.

Yep, I could be a bear and would probably like it. But God made me a woman, and one thing I’ve learned in my 60 years is that God has a plan for me (Jeremiah 29:11). Accepting that is far more rewarding than anything I could want for myself.

I’m happy to be how God made me.

I never expected I would see the milestone I’m crossing today. It always seemed like it was over the hill, older than dirt and a carry-over from ancient days. Something I never thought of as applying to me.

You may have guessed already — it’s a birthday. A big one in the eyes of some. I’m turning 60.
But, I don’t feel like 60, and when I look in the mirror, I don’t see 60.

I’m pretty active. I would still play tennis if I had someone to play with. I walk regularly and plan to join a workout gym this year. None of that “sounds” like 60 to me.

I’ve done the math, though. I was born in 1948 and graduated high school in 1966. Yep, I’m 60 alright.

I realize now, what seemed to be soooooo old to me before is not old at all. Am I still middle aged? or am I old? As far as feeling 60, I only have my misguided perceptions of what that would be like, and now I know that was wrong. I’m realizing that feeling my age is a totally subjective thing. This is not how I thought 60 would feel.

I remember my grandmother who came for extended visits in our home while I was growing up. With deep wrinkles in her face and what seemed like an out-dated look at life, she looked more natural in a rocking chair with a quilting needle or crochet hook in her hands, producing yet another work of art, than she would have on a tennis court.

Yep, this age thing is a little difficult to figure out, but that won’t stop me. When I get my answers, I’ll share them with you. In the meantime, you’ll find me in the news room at the Herald Democrat, proud to have lived every one of my 60 years.

I hear from unknown sources that 60 is the new 40. I like that because I think I feel 40 more than I feel 60.