I didn’t like turning fifty.

Turning thirty didn’t bother me at all. Turning forty I barely remember because I was so busy with young children, work, homeschooling, and church. But turning fifty was a little worrisome because it was the first decade that sounded even remotely “old” to me. It was hard to believe that I had been alive for half a century.

And now soon, very soon, I’ll be turning fifty-nine, which, if you’re counting, gives me just one more year before I turn sixty. When my husband turned sixty a few years ago, I remember saying breezily to him, “Aww, it’s fine! Sixty is the new forty!” But now the shoe is on the other foot and I’m finding myself clinging fondly to my fifties because they’re actually looking pretty good to me right now, and that decade sounds quite young, especially when it’s mostly in the rearview mirror.

Probably my sixties will eventually feel as comfortable as my fifties do now—and I’m sure a few encouraging minutes of conversation with a woman who is older than I am would confirm that fact—but right here, right now, knocking at the door of almost-sixty, it’s a little hard to swallow.

When I set out on the six-minute drive to pick my son up from work, I had an urgent issue on my mind. I wanted to make the most of my limited time to talk out loud to God, and I do that sometimes when I’m alone in the car.

My prayer went something like this (also, there might have been a few tears involved, along with a fumbling grasp for glove compartment fast food napkins at the stoplight):

“Lord, this is a big decision. I don’t know what to do. It affects not just me, but other people, too, and I’m scared of all of this change. Dear God, please help me. Can you …” (hesitating now) “… and you know I hardly ever ask you for this, Lord … I’m actually not sure I ought to be asking it at all, and I’m sorry if this is wrong to ask … but can you possibly give me a sign so I know what to do?”

Even as I said the words, my mind flew to the book of Judges, when Gideon put God to the test with a sheep’s fleece, asking for a specific sign to confirm what God had clearly called him to do. This scene has never sat well with me, yet Gideon received an answer exactly when he asked for it, and without reproof from God. So (I told myself) maybe my asking God for a sign wasn’t so bad after all?

Back when my husband and I first became Christians, one of the passages that we most loved in our brand-new Bibles was this one: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).

For two people who had been leaning very much on our own understanding, the idea of trusting in God was both a welcome challenge and a restful change. We spoke often of this new concept and we frequently reminded each other to trust God in difficult situations. Throughout our 30 years of marriage, I suppose I had always thought that we were fully on the same page when it came to trusting God … but a chance conversation recently made me realize that trusting God doesn’t always look the same for everyone.