I never thought hip pain would be my wake-up call, but it completely transformed how I approach caring for the body God gave me.
There I was, pushing through another high-intensity workout, gritting my teeth through the sharp ache that had been building for months. “No pain, no gain,” right? That’s what I’d always believed. But as I limped home that Tuesday afternoon, barely able to climb the stairs to my bedroom, something shifted inside me. This wasn’t strength—this was stubbornness. And it was destroying the very temple I was trying to honor.
That night, lying in bed with ice packs wrapped around my hips, I found myself praying differently than I had in years. Not for the strength to push harder, but for the wisdom to know when to be gentle. Little did I know that this moment of physical breakdown would become the foundation of the most transformative spiritual journey I’ve experienced in decades.
The Turning Point That Changed Everything
Let me tell you about how pushing myself too hard actually taught me what gentle stewardship really looks like. For years, I’d approached fitness like a battlefield. Every workout was a fight against my aging body, every mirror a reminder of what I’d lost. Working at our Christian high school, I felt this constant pressure to be an example—strong, disciplined, unwavering. But what kind of example was I really setting when I was secretly popping ibuprofen before every workout and hiding my winces from the students?
The morning after that breaking point, I couldn’t even put on my socks without help. My husband had to steady me as I got out of bed, and for the first time, I felt genuinely afraid. What if this was it? What if I’d pushed so hard that I’d broken something irreparable?
But God, in His infinite wisdom, had different plans.
That’s when I discovered the PowerPlate at our local gym—a strange-looking machine that promised low-impact strength training. I’ll be honest, I was skeptical. How could gentle vibrations possibly replace the burn of heavy weights? But desperation has a way of opening our minds to new possibilities.
The first session was a revelation. Instead of fighting my body, I was working with it. The vibrations activated my muscles without the jarring impact that had been wreaking havoc on my joints. For the first time in months, I left the gym feeling energized rather than depleted. It was like discovering that God’s strength really is made perfect in our weakness—when I stopped trying to force my body into submission, it began to respond with grace.
Three Life-Changing Shifts
From High-Impact Punishment to Low-Impact Partnership
The transition wasn’t just physical—it was deeply spiritual. As I traded heavy barbells for resistance bands and brutal cardio sessions for gentle walks, I began to understand something profound about stewardship. I’d been treating my body like an enemy to conquer rather than a gift to cherish.
PowerPlate became my gentle giant, providing strength training that honored my limitations while still challenging my muscles. Walking replaced running, and you know what? I actually started enjoying movement again. There’s something sacred about walking—Jesus did His best teaching while walking with His disciples. Now, my feet hitting the pavement became a rhythm of prayer, each step a small offering of gratitude.
The resistance bands were a game-changer too. Light, portable, and infinitely adaptable. I could use them in my office, in my living room while watching my grandson play, anywhere my aging body needed gentle strength. No more dreading workouts or scheduling my day around recovery time.
From Rushing Through Life to Seeking Sacred Stillness
I get it—I still struggle with this one daily. The rush of morning routines, the packed schedule at work, the constant feeling that I’m running behind. But my hip pain forced me to slow down, and in that slowing, I discovered something beautiful.
My vision now is simple: 10-minute outdoor walks with worship music flowing through my earbuds. Not every morning—I’m being honest here—but when I do make it happen, those ten minutes set the tone for my entire day. There’s something about combining gentle movement with songs that lift my spirit skyward that feels deeply worshipful.
Some mornings, I manage only five minutes. Other days, life explodes before I even get my shoes on. But I’m learning that consistency isn’t about perfection—it’s about returning again and again to what feeds our souls, even when we fall short.
The meditation aspect was harder for me. My mind races like a hamster on a wheel most days. But walking meditation? That I could handle. One foot in front of the other, breathing in God’s creation, letting worship music wash over me—this became my moving prayer, my active rest.
From Self-Judgment to Grace-Centered Acceptance
This is where I’m still very much a work in progress, dear sister. Looking in the mirror can be a daily battle between gratitude and grief. I catch myself comparing my current body to photos from twenty years ago and have to consciously redirect those thoughts toward grace.
Becoming a grandmother changed everything, though. When I hold my precious grandson, I’m not thinking about my wrinkles or my softer middle. I’m marveling at the miracle of life, at the generations of God’s goodness flowing through our family. This little one doesn’t care about my appearance—he just wants my presence, my love, my attention.
My older sisters have been incredible inspiration in this journey. I watch them—happy, fulfilled, radiating joy at 65, 67, and 68—and I see what’s possible when we stop fighting the seasons of our lives and start embracing them. They’re not trying to be 30 again; they’re being magnificently themselves at every age God grants them.
But let’s be real—some days I still struggle. I avoid being on camera because I’m still working through self-judgment about how I look. The woman in the mirror doesn’t always match the woman I feel like inside. This is where grace becomes not just a concept but a daily practice.
The Real Challenges (Because Honesty Matters)
Working at a high school means I’m surrounded by energy, youth, and enthusiasm every day. It’s inspiring, but it can also be a constant reminder of what my body used to be able to do. I’ve had to learn to see these young people not as a measuring stick for my own worth, but as a reminder of the beautiful seasons of life we’re all privileged to experience.
The morning routine consistency? Still a struggle. Some weeks I’m up early, moving my body and feeding my soul before the day begins. Other weeks, I’m hitting snooze until the last possible moment and rushing out the door with barely a prayer. The key has been releasing the guilt and starting fresh each day.
Balancing caregiving presents its own challenges. The day I spent with my grandson was pure joy, but it also meant skipping my usual movement routine. Instead of beating myself up about it, I’m learning to see active play with a toddler as its own form of worship—chasing him around the yard, getting down on the floor for peek-a-boo, carrying him when his little legs get tired. These moments of love in action are wellness too.
The self-judgment about appearance and aging hits hardest when I’m trying to put myself out there online. How do I share these wellness insights when I don’t feel like I look the part? This tension between wanting to help others and feeling inadequate myself is real and ongoing.
My Current Wellness Rhythm
Let me share what my routine actually looks like, not the Pinterest-perfect version, but the real one. Three times a week, I spend 20 minutes on the PowerPlate. The gentle vibrations work every muscle group without the joint stress that used to leave me hobbling. It’s become a form of prayer time—thanking God for the strength I do have rather than mourning what I’ve lost.
Resistance bands are scattered throughout my house like colorful reminders of grace. Light green for arms, blue for legs, and the red one that challenges me just enough without triggering pain. I can grab five minutes of strength work between bookwork or while dinner simmers on the stove.
The walking routine is hit-or-miss, but when it happens, it’s magic. Worship music creates a soundtrack for gratitude as I notice the changing seasons, wave to neighbors, and let my mind settle into the rhythm of my feet. Sometimes I pray, sometimes I just breathe, sometimes I sing along quietly to songs that remind me of God’s faithfulness.
The Spiritual Thread That Weaves It All Together
Here’s what I’m discovering: physical struggles have taught me more about God’s grace than years of theology classes ever did. When my hip pain forced me to slow down, I found space to hear God’s whisper. When I stopped demanding performance from my body, I started experiencing His presence in movement.
Worship music during exercise transforms the entire experience. Instead of focusing on burning calories or building muscle, I’m reminded that every breath is a gift, every step a small act of worship. Some mornings, I literally dance in my living room to a favorite praise song, and it counts as movement. Joy-filled movement honors God just as much as intense exercise ever did.
My sisters model something beautiful about aging with purpose rather than resignation. They’re not trying to turn back time; they’re making the most of the time they have. Their laughter, their service, their continued growth inspire me to see each year as a gift rather than a loss.
The perspective shift that came with grandmotherhood surprised me. Suddenly, my primary concern wasn’t how I looked but how long I might get to be present in this little one’s life. Taking care of my body became less about vanity and more about stewardship—wanting to be healthy and strong enough to chase grandchildren, to serve others, to fulfill whatever purpose God still has for me.
Speaking Heart to Heart
Can I be vulnerable with you for a moment? I still have mornings when I look in the mirror and feel disappointed. I still catch myself rushing through days when I meant to savor them. I still struggle with consistency in both my devotional time and my movement routine.
But here’s what I’m learning: transformation isn’t about perfection—it’s about direction. We don’t have to get it right every day; we just have to keep turning our hearts toward health, toward gratitude, toward the God who loves us exactly as we are while gently calling us toward growth.
Do you find yourself comparing your current body to your younger self? I see you nodding. Do you rush through your days and then wonder where the time went? Me too. Are you inspired by older women who seem to radiate joy and purpose? I am, and I want to become one of them.
The struggle with consistency is so real, isn’t it? We start strong, full of good intentions and detailed plans, and then life happens. Kids need us, work demands overflow, energy dips, and suddenly we’re back to old patterns. This is where grace becomes practical, not just theological.
What I’m Still Learning
I’m learning that being approachable in person is more important than looking perfect online. The students at our school don’t need me to be their fitness inspiration; they need me to be real, authentic, and full of grace. The same is true for other women navigating this season of life.
The ultimate goal isn’t to look younger or be stronger—it’s to grow closer to God through every season He gives us. When we approach our bodies with gentleness rather than judgment, we reflect His heart toward us. When we move with gratitude rather than obligation, we turn exercise into worship.
A Vision Worth Pursuing
Here’s my heart for every woman reading this: I want us to wake up thankful. Not every morning—let’s be realistic—but more mornings than not. I want us to notice small beautiful things during our days rather than rushing past them. I want us to have peace with who we are becoming rather than mourning who we used to be.
I want us to be positive influences in our families, workplaces, and communities. Not perfect examples, but grace-filled ones. Women who show others that it’s possible to age with dignity, to struggle with consistency and still keep trying, to honor our bodies without obsessing over them.
Most importantly, I want us to draw closer to God through the gentle stewardship of these bodies He’s given us. Whether we’re 45 or 75, whether we’re dealing with hip pain or heart issues or just the general aches of aging, we can still move with purpose, rest with gratitude, and live with hope.
Walking taught me that slow can be sacred. Resistance bands taught me that light can still create strength. My sisters taught me that aging can be beautiful. My grandson taught me that presence matters more than appearance.
But most importantly, this journey taught me that God’s grace extends to every area of our lives—including how we care for these earthly bodies that house our eternal souls.
So tomorrow morning, when your alarm goes off, remember: you don’t have to be perfect. You just have to begin again. Whether it’s five minutes of gentle movement, a short walk with worship music, or simply pausing to thank God for the breath in your lungs, start where you are.
Your body is not your enemy—it’s your partner in this life God has given you. Treat it with the same grace you’d show a dear friend, the same patience you’d offer a struggling sister, the same love God shows you every single day.
Because at the end of this life, the question won’t be whether we looked young or stayed strong. The question will be whether we loved well, served faithfully, and drew closer to our Creator with every breath we were given.
And sisters, that journey can begin again today, no matter what yesterday looked like, no matter how many times we’ve started and stopped before. Grace is new every morning, and so are we.
May God bless your journey toward gentle wellness, one grace-filled step at a time.
