The Grace of Aging

I thought, ‘Age should speak; advanced years should teach wisdom.’ But it is the spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding. (Job 32:7-9 niv)

Today, we are constantly bombarded with youth as a goal. Suppleness and dewiness exist as ideals for which to strive, to the detriment of aching muscles and bank account balances. Wisdom cannot be purchased, nor can acceptance.

A while ago, at a local diner, an elderly couple dined at the next booth. They split an “early bird” meal, and the woman became incensed when a $2 charge for sharing appeared on the bill. The menu clearly stated that there would be a fee for splitting a dinner. For both of them, the cost of a three-course meal was under $10. First she verbally abused the young waitress, than began upbraiding the manager, using the foulest of epithets. The tirade contrasted sharply with her grandmotherly image of wavy white hair and walking stick. Initially, my companion and I enjoyed the “Floor Show,” lunch-time entertainment provided gratis.

After the manager ordered them to leave, threatening to call someone to escort them out, and she exited the diner, still sputtering, I questioned my own amusement. Having been acquainted with many fine people who never had the opportunity to live to an old age, I consider the process to be a gift from God. The elderly have much to teach us, as do the young. The “breath of the Almighty,” manifests in those of all chronological ages.

Decades ago, I sat down next to an older woman on a city bus. She had a huge tote bag, which she graciously removed, so that I could be more comfortable. We began chatting, and she showed me the various arts and crafts projects she had made at the 92nd Street Y that morning. She said that, rather than be alone in her apartment, she went to special classes a few days a week that were for “old ladies.” She must have had her share of life’s tragedies, and the usual aches and pains, yet she remained pleasant and companionable. After I got off at my stop, I remember thinking that, if I lived to be her age, I wanted to be just as she was. My daughters have heard the story of this chance encounter, and have been known to remind me of this pledge on occasion.

Of course, I never met her again, nor ever even knew her name. The contrasting behavior of these two women gave me pause for thought. We have choices in life, however long it may be. It seems wondrous that someone who may never have given me a passing thought for the rest of her life made such an indelible impression on a teenager in the City.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
 
Keep me reasonably sweet, for a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people; and give, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.

“A Prayer for Growing Old Gracefully,” Author Unknown.
(homestead.com)

Contributed by Hon-Wai
Monday October 17, 2011
Liturgical Year A: Week 47
Liturgical Color: Red
Sunday Gospel reading:
Lectionary 29 (Proper 24)
Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost