We're getting there. Growing old. Whether we are young or not, it's coming, growing old. I heard from a friend, who is a few years older than I. She has a debilitating disease, and there is nothing I can do about it. She's a good woman, and the progress of her disease troubles me.
I don't think that I've ever considered growing old. I guess I thought that I could, by sheer force of will, prevent the inevitable. Few people of any age like to talk about growing old. It whispers of death. Finality. Mortality. Questions arise. Eternal questions, which should give us comfort, aren't comforting to many people.
How will I feel? Where am I going? Am I safer if I don't think about it? When I'm old, will I be loved? Cherished? Taken care of, if I can't take care of myself? Should I make it hard on the person who cares for me? My husband? My daughters? I think that growing old can be a beautiful thing. It need not be an excuse to mistreat those around us. It can be simply awful for those who love us, if we take and resent, and take our disappointments out on others.
It has taken me awhile to understand that I am never going to be 120 pounds again. Or 130. Or 140. Or even 150. But I have a lovely smile. My skin is pretty smooth. And my hair still glints with gold, and just a touch of silver. I've had a good life.
I'm slower, but then, it makes it easier for my husband to catch me. I don't try very hard to get away. Yes. My feelings have not changed towards my husband. When we were younger, we hardly came up for air. Now, air is a good thing, and so is gentle and slow. I love him, with all the intensity of my youth, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves me. That, my friends, is everything to me.
Thank you, Father, for a life of passion and truth. Thank you for giving me a warm, strong hand to hold. Thank you for giving me the best life, according to Your will. Thank you for allowing me to grow old with the love of my life.
Thursday, June 26, 2008