Boomers are often portrayed as a wealthy generation sitting comfortably on housing and investment gains. But a generation is not a person, and age doesn't tell you someone's financial story. The reality of aging in Canada is far more complicated.

We were women and we put up with a lot. At book club, a conversation about career and vocation opened the door to stories of workplace discrimination and sexual harassment—and a reflection on how much women of our generation endured, resisted, and ultimately changed.

James Hollis calls it “the feeling of rightness.” For me, paying attention to consolation and desolation has become a way of discerning whether my life is in alignment with what matters most.

Singing the Doxology brought me back to my Christian roots—and to how much my understanding of faith has changed. As I get older, I’m learning to trust my own spiritual discernment rather than looking for someone else’s endorsement of what is “Christian.”

A week on the road has reminded me of three gifts of this stage of life: friendships deepened by time, a greater willingness to listen to my body, and an increasing sense of contentment with life's small moments.

Getting older comes with some unexpected sound effects. A little groan here, a sigh there. I’ve started wondering if I’m simply developing a habit—or becoming the Maria Sharapova of my generation.

As I get older, my daily maintenance list seems to grow. But what happens when a beautiful day at the beach asks me to let some of those routines go? Maybe part of growing wiser is learning what can wait—and what is truly important.

As we age, what happens to all the stuff we accumulate? A reflection on clutter, consumerism, buying less, and the legacy we leave for our children.

What do we call the Divine when the words we inherited no longer fit? Sometimes finding new language for our spiritual lives is part of finding our way into a deeper relationship with Mystery.

After decades of dreading Sunday mornings as “the pastor’s wife,” I now experience Sunday as my favourite day of the week. Eight years after leaving organized religion, I’m discovering what spiritual freedom feels like when I stop outsourcing my understanding of God.

Some friendships are built over decades, one conversation, one adventure, one road trip at a time. They become part of the scaffolding that holds us as we move through our lives—and perhaps become even more important as we age.

It’s not how I feel that gives me the data that I am an older adult. It’s how other people treat me.

Gloria Steinem was right about women growing radical as they age. But we have enough radical people doing damage. We need women who are deeply radical.

My mother has spent years letting go of a lifetime of accumulated things. As her children watch clocks, wall hangings and other treasures find new homes, I’m thinking about what we really need to keep—and what we can safely let go.

At the end of a beautiful summer day, I found myself carefully packing away my sun shelter. It was a small reminder that the season—and my time with these grandchildren—is passing. I am not taking any of it for granted.

Sometimes we don't understand our own story until we tell it to someone else. A conversation about my faith journey helped me see something I had missed for years—and changed how I understand discernment.

Sometimes we stop doing things long before we actually need to. Today, 228 stairs reminded me to question what I’ve quietly decided I can no longer do.

There was a time when I could have told you exactly what you needed to update your wardrobe. Not anymore. These days, my criteria are necessity and comfort. There is surprising freedom in no longer needing clothes for every version of yourself—or keeping up with what the retail giants say is “in.”