Published: October 1, 2026

By John Coleman

Every now and then, I miss him.

The younger man I used to be.

I miss the fellow who could stay up half the night and somehow still function the next morning. I miss the body that didn’t complain quite so loudly when I asked it to do something. I miss having more years in front of me than behind me.

And sometimes, if I’m being completely truthful, I miss certain chapters of my life that I didn’t fully appreciate while I was living them.

Maybe you do, too.

Perhaps you miss the house where your children grew up. Maybe you miss hearing little feet running down the hallway—and those same little feet now belong to grown men and women with children of their own. Maybe you miss a career you once complained about. You may miss a husband or wife who is no longer sitting beside you. Maybe you miss your parents. Or an old friend.

Perhaps you miss the person you were before the diagnosis, the divorce, the funeral, the financial setback, the disappointment, or simply the passing of years. 

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately: there is no shame in missing who you used to be.

Gratitude for today does not require amnesia about yesterday.

You can love the life you have now and still miss something you once had. You can thank God for this season while occasionally wishing you could walk through the door of an earlier one—just for an afternoon.

I don’t believe that’s ingratitude. I think it’s part of being human. The danger comes when yesterday becomes so beautiful in our memory that today begins to look empty by comparison.

Because here’s the thing: we’re still here. And if we’re still here, God isn’t finished with us.

At my age, I’m discovering that life doesn’t necessarily become less meaningful as we grow older. Meaning simply begins showing up in different places.

Maybe we can’t do everything we once did. But perhaps we notice things now that our younger selves were too busy to see. We listen a little longer. We forgive a little quicker. We understand that some arguments aren’t worth winning. We know that another birthday isn’t something to complain about. 

We know how quickly children become adults, acquaintances become dear friends, and ordinary afternoons become precious memories.

And perhaps, after walking with God through enough valleys, we finally understand something our younger selves couldn’t:

God was faithful then.

God is faithful now.

And God will be faithful with whatever comes next.

So, go ahead and miss who you used to be. Smile at the photographs. Tell the old stories. Remember the people. Thank God for the chapters already written. 

But don’t spend so much time rereading yesterday that you miss the page God has placed in front of you today. Because someday, perhaps sooner than we imagine, we may look back on this very season and realize there was more beauty in it than we knew.

And wouldn’t it be a shame to miss it twice?