Your Second Curve

If you are over the age of 40, this is for you.

You are massively important—far more valuable to your family and community than you likely realize.

I know you are busy, so I’ll try to keep this brief. But this message matters, especially this time of year.

When we hit our 40s, new and sometimes unsettling things begin to happen. We can no longer see the fine print. Our bodies sag in the oddest places. We walk into a room and stand there, not quite sure why we’re there. Our hands begin to look like our parents’ hands. Age spots appear.

It can feel disorienting. And the natural instinct is to hold tightly to what was. But what if your life becomes more satisfying—not less—when you release Young You and confidently, even joyfully, step into Older You?

Arthur C. Brooks writes about this beautifully. He describes life as having two curves. The first curve—the one most of us know well—is about striving, achieving, building, accumulating. Eventually, that curve peaks and begins to decline. And when it does, many people feel afraid, as if their best years are behind them.

But Brooks insists there is a second curve, where depth replaces speed and wisdom replaces chaos—where success is no longer measured by what we build, but by how deeply we build into others. This second curve can be even more gratifying than the first—if we are willing to step into it.

I don’t believe for a moment that we matter less now. In fact, Arthur Brooks—my new bestie—is helping me see that the opposite is true.

Instead of longing for what was, think about that second curve. Huh. A new vista. This is truly about going from what was to what is; it’s going From Strength to Strength.

Your worth is increasing—especially to those that love you most.

Let me explain by sharing a moment that changed me.

Several years ago, Russ and I traveled to Tallahassee for a five-day intensive retreat at the John Paul II Healing Institute. It was an anniversary gift to ourselves—time set apart for reflection, healing, and growth as a couple. I expected insight. I didn’t expect to be undone by something I almost missed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dr. Bob Schuchts—the founder of the Institute—standing off to the side with his grandchildren. The room was busy, but my attention locked onto that small family circle.

Bob leaned in toward each child. His posture felt almost reverent. His eyes had no hurry, no distraction.

As he gently and easily showed them what to do in the small bookstore set up nearby, he looked at them with a love so intense and present, my world stopped.

And then came a deep longing—familiar and tender.

I felt a quiet ache—not for what the children had, but for what they were receiving. And with it came a recognition of something many of us carry: the longing to be seen that way. Fully known. Fully delighted in.

It was a holy thing to witness. A gift to those grandchildren. And unexpectedly, a gift to me.

That memory returned as I reflected on this message, and I realized why it matters here.

When we are young adults and raising children, much of life is lived on autopilot. We are simply trying to make it through the day without losing our minds. There is noise and chaos because small children are noisy and chaotic. There is no down time.

But as we grow older, we have different eyes and frankly, different, world-worn hearts. We have seen joy and sorrow, triumph and loss. We intimately know heartbreak and hope. We also understand: life is short, but well worth the sacrifices.

And that, my dear, is why you are profoundly important in this season. You may not be “everything” in the eyes of the world—but you are everything to those who look to you, love you, and need you.

This is your second curve. You matter in ways that run deeper than success, deeper than achievement, deeper than applause.

And it is gorgeous.

Enjoy your people. Be their Bob Schuchts.

I love this life—and I’m deeply glad you are in it.

P.S. Embracing the second curve doesn’t mean ignoring our bodies or surrendering to decline. It means tending to what we’ve been given with wisdom rather than fear. I care about strength, nourishment, and movement—not because staying young is the goal, but because presence is. For me, this season has included learning how to care for my body with the same wisdom and grace I’m learning to offer the rest of my life. If that speaks to you, my January 5th round is open. If you want to come in early, I’ll get you started. Find out more here.