A couple weeks hence, my daughter will turn twenty-one. Whenever I think about this occasion, I feel a strange admixture of nostalgia, wonder, and gratitude. The tiny baby I once cradled has grown to be a remarkable young adult.

And, a scant four months after she turns twenty-one, I turn sixty. Twenty-one and sixty have been on my mind quite a bit this year. Recently, I was looking at birthday cards and saw one that read, “You’re Not 60. You’re 21 with 39 Years of Experience!”

I’ve been reflecting on those thirty-nine years of experience – that journey from 21 to 60 – what unexpected paths opened, with many events mundane, some unwelcome, but others beyond my wildest expectations. Sixty invites revisiting our lives, exploring the terrain of the soul with honesty, insight, and gratefulness. Embracing the “big birthdays” as a time of pause, discernment, and meditation is a sort of soul-harvest. We gather the wisdom gained from experience and consider how the garden might be even more fruitful next season. The call to reflect is both joyful and a bit fearsome – feeling profound thanks for what has been and bravely face mortality.

But I’ve also been thinking about the reverse as well. What do I say to my daughter as she turns 21? What has 60 to do with 21? How do you share wisdom with another? Would I have, at 21, listened to my 60 year old self? I already know the answer: no.

In his book, Falling Upward, Richard Rohr warns, “If you try to assert wisdom before people have themselves walked it, be prepared for much resistance, denial, push-back, and verbal debate.” The resistance comes from both sides of the relational equation: the giver “asserts,” and the recipient does not yet have the awareness to recognize the words as a gift. We cannot know what we do not know. Before we’ve experienced something for ourselves the advice or insight of others – especially from those who are older – often sounds like superiority. “We know better than you do. When you’re grown-up, you will understand. You will see that we were right.” Sadly, I’ve seen this attitude manifested all too often in congregations when well-meaning older adults talk about their grown children and grandchildren. This kind of generational one-upmanship doesn’t help anybody. It is experienced as more divisive than unwrapping a gift of wisdom.

Ouch.

Does this mean 60 has nothing to share with 21?

Of course not. As I approach 60, I’ve learned that all wisdom springs from a single insight: Life is a gift. Life is the gift. As we face fewer decades ahead than we’ve experienced behind, older adults understand the beauty and fleeting nature of this gift. We long for younger people to know this, deeply and profoundly. No matter the struggle, setback, challenge, or fear, hold onto life, fight for it, and embrace it. Life is a gift. Every friend or mentor I’ve ever had shared this with me in some way, a way uniquely embodied in their own journey. Richard Rohr goes on to say, “a person must pass the lessons learned on to others—or there has been no real gift at all.” This generational sharing is central to our humanity, the gift of life is magnified by passing it on.

I haven’t always been very good at sharing wisdom with my daughter. I remember too many painful shouting matches in high school – with me yelling “listen to me” and her resisting. Through failure, I slowly learned that wisdom is a two-way street. The more I listened to her story, the more she listened to mine. I realized that (despite the typical problems of being a teen), she was quite insightful. She taught me about the passions and struggles of her generation, about their cares and fears. One day, as we loaded groceries in the car in the Safeway parking lot, she unexpectedly said, “You know mom, you aren’t judgmental about our politics and technology like other parents. You listen to us. Thanks.”

I almost dropped the eggs. I tried not to let on how surprised I was – or how hard it had been for me to learn to listen. I simply said, “Well, I try. It is important to see life from your perspective.”

We’d moved from me “asserting” and her “resisting” to an open pathway of listening and sharing. There are still plenty of bumps in the road, but these days, I’m grateful for gifts I can pass down to her. And I’m equally thankful for those she passes “up” to me.

So, what wisdom will this 60-year old mom share with her 21-year old daughter this coming year?

Listen to the children. To those younger than yourself. Never think you have a monopoly on wisdom. Gifts can’t be forced on others; they can only be received as gifts when we are ready.

But do, please, live deeply, with joy. For life is the first gift, the gift upon which all other gifts depend. Open your arms to it, whatever comes your way.

Visit Diana Butler Bass’ website here.