Sister Hinckley and I are learning that the so-called golden

“Sister Hinckley and I are learning that the so-called golden years are laced with lead.” – Gordon B. Hinckley

In this tender and reflective statement, Gordon B. Hinckley, a man revered for both his faith and his humility, speaks with the quiet honesty that only age can grant. The “golden years,” a phrase often uttered to describe the tranquil and prosperous days of old age, are here revealed to be “laced with lead.” It is a poetic confession — that even in the time of life meant for rest and reflection, there are burdens that weigh heavily upon the heart and body. His words shimmer with both gratitude and realism, reminding us that even life’s final chapters are not free from struggle.

The origin of this quote rests in the wisdom of a life long lived and well examined. Hinckley, who served as President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, uttered these words in his later years beside his beloved wife, Sister Marjorie Hinckley, with whom he shared nearly seven decades of companionship. Together they had faced triumph and loss, joy and illness, laughter and fatigue. And so, when he spoke of their “golden years,” it was not from bitterness but from truth — the truth that aging is both a gift and a trial. The gold of memory and love glows warmly, but the lead of frailty and sorrow runs through it, grounding the soul in the reality of mortality.

His words echo the wisdom of the ancients, who never romanticized old age as pure bliss, but as a season of both light and shadow. In the Book of Ecclesiastes, the Preacher writes: “Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, before the days of trouble come.” Even the ancients knew that the later years, though rich in wisdom, are burdened with the slow fading of strength, the loss of friends, and the weight of memory. Yet within this heaviness, there is still beauty — the beauty of endurance, of gratitude, of love that deepens even as the body declines.

Consider the story of Michelangelo, who in his seventies still carved stone with trembling hands. When asked why he did not rest, he replied, “Ancora imparo” — “I am still learning.” His golden years, too, were laced with lead. His body ached, his eyesight dimmed, yet his spirit refused to surrender. He bore the heaviness of age not as a curse, but as the price of purpose. So too did Hinckley and his wife — they lived not as those weighed down by despair, but as those who, even under leaden skies, still searched for light.

The lead that laces the golden years is not only the weight of the body but the burden of the heart. The elders carry memories that are both blessing and burden — the faces of those they have loved and lost, the dreams left undone, the wisdom earned through sorrow. Yet, in this mingling of joy and grief lies the true nobility of the human journey. Gold without alloy is soft and fragile; gold tempered with lead becomes enduring. Likewise, a life without struggle may shine brightly, but it lacks the strength that only endurance can forge.

Hinckley’s words teach us that there is dignity in every stage of life, even in the weariness of age. To live long is not only to see the sunlight but to withstand the storm. The golden years are not a time of unbroken bliss, but a sacred test of patience, humility, and love. They remind us that even as the body weakens, the soul can still grow stronger. The mind can still learn, the heart can still love, and faith can still deepen in the twilight.

Let this truth guide the young as well as the old: do not wait for the golden years to find meaning. Treasure each season, for each carries its own weight of gold and lead. Love deeply while you have strength; learn gratitude before you are tested by loss. And when age comes — as it surely will — face it not with resentment, but with reverence. The years may be laced with lead, but that lead is what gives the gold its character, its weight, its worth.

For in the end, Hinckley’s reflection is not one of despair, but of sacred understanding. Life, from birth to twilight, is both radiant and heavy. The gold shines because of the lead that runs through it. So when the final season comes, and the world grows quiet, may we say as he did — not in sorrow, but in gentle wisdom — that we too have learned how precious even the heavy days can be.