A lot of things, actually.

I started teaching when I was 50 years old, and in those early days, I felt like a kid just out of college—uncertain, overwhelmed, and deeply aware of everything I didn’t know. Now, nine years later, I’m still learning every day, but I carry a confidence and presence in the classroom that I couldn’t have mustered in my 30s or even my early 40s. Life has taught me a lot, and the wisdom I bring to my students is rooted in more than just pedagogy—it’s grounded in experience.

Strangely enough, even my singing voice has improved with age. I’m probably at the peak of my vocal range right now—stronger, more controlled, more expressive. I may be nearing the plateau, but I feel more connected to the music than I did in my 20s and 30s. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived more. Maybe it’s because I’ve suffered more. Maybe it’s because I know what the lyrics mean now.

Relationships change, too. My first marriage ended in divorce, and I carry the weight of knowing I wasn’t the husband I should have been. But in this chapter of my life, I’m learning to love better. Daryl and I have faced our share of conflict—every marriage does—but we’ve found ways to grow stronger through it. I don’t take love for granted anymore. I know it takes work, and grace, and presence.

Then there’s Scott—my best friend of many years. Our friendship has matured like the fine wines he loves, and the bourbons we sip and talk over. The good stuff starts strong, but it’s time in the cask that makes it exceptional. That aging, that slow deepening of flavor—that’s our friendship.

My faith, too, is aging. Not growing old, but deepening. It’s tested often. I don’t always meet the challenges well. I don’t pray enough. I don’t open Scripture as often as I should. But I keep coming back. And that persistence, that hunger to be more like Christ, is itself a kind of progress.

Nothing in my life compares to being a father—and now, a grandfather. My daughter, my grandson—they open new chambers of my heart I didn’t even know existed. When Sully was born, I couldn’t believe how deeply I loved someone I hadn’t even met. Just thinking about him brings a smile to my face and a swelling in my chest.

And yes, even my writing is getting better. I’ve finished a novel—proof to myself that I could. Now I want to do it again. I want to do it better. Publishing it has been a challenge, especially the marketing side, and that’s an area I’m still figuring out. (If you have ideas, I’m all ears.)

But overall? I wouldn’t trade younger me for who I am today. Age has been a gift. Not an escape from pain or imperfection, but a refining fire that has slowly, faithfully, made me more of who I’m meant to be.

Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt