Thanks Sam. There can be great peace in leaving things in God’s hands, knowing they are much safer than ours.

Hi Mark. Good to hear from you.
A fair question. I guess I’d say they are well past a use by date when the number of cases when the saying is unhelpful significantly outweighs the number of times it is useful. So, eg, in a world where we need more, rather than less, curiosity, avoiding engagement with curiosity killed the cat isn’t helpful, and is often dismissive of valid concerns.

But with sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never harm you – fair enough, there are times when we need to be resilient enough to shrug it off with a “they are just words”. Having said that, I’m very wary of people who dismiss the damaging impact of their words with a “they were just words. I didn’t do anything.”

Wondering why Curiosity killed the cat; Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never harm you; and Cut your coat according to your cloth are “past their use by date” any more than other sayings used through history.

Rosemary and I have so enjoyed getting to know you, Peter and the children in your all too short season in Perth. You will be greatly missed but thank you for all you have poured into your time here.

Thanks Paul. I do wish you and Colleen were closer.

Thanks for such thoughtful reflections Sam. They are both beautiful and helpful.

What surprises me most at this stage is how God’s love becomes quieter but stronger. Not loud, not dramatic—more like a steady warmth that keeps showing up in the small hours, in the ordinary tasks, in the people who cross my path. I’ve stopped asking God to “fix” things and started asking Him to help me see what He is already doing. That shift alone has brought more peace than any solution ever could.

Like you, I’m learning that pace is not the same as purpose. I move slower, but I see more. I listen longer, and people open up in ways they never did when I was rushing. It feels like God is teaching me that usefulness in His kingdom is less about activity and more about presence—being willing to hold another person’s story with care, and then quietly lift it toward heaven.

At 68, I’m grateful. Not because everything is easy, but because everything is meaningful. The outer self is losing some of its shine, but the inner self is finally learning how to love without needing to be right, how to trust without needing to understand, and how to walk with God without needing to know the map.

Thank you for reminding me that aging can be a holy thing.