Getting Old

My folks were married 50 years and 1 month before Dad died after a fall, at 92. Mom was only 79 at the time, 13 years his junior.

Although 13 years is a big gap between husband and wife, we kids thought nothing of it, because Mom and Dad made it work well. I remember only one incident, one comment, when their age spread surfaced. It occurred a few months before Dad died.

After they had spent an evening at our house, the two of them were walking toward the front door. Suddenly Mom, who adored Dad, said, “Carl, don’t shuffle. You’re walking like an old man.” (He was 92.)

In a way it was a compliment. She was saying, “I don’t think of you as an old man, so don’t act like one.”

After her comment, Dad picked up his feet, a compliment to her. He was saying, “I’m glad you think I’m still spry.”

Interestingly, after Dad died, Mom lived 13 more years, so God gave her the chance to know 92 as he had. Her conclusion? “Now I know why Dad shuffled,” she said. “He wanted to be sure he didn’t fall.”

With age comes wisdom, but sadly, while we’re young, we rarely value it and don’t often ask advice of our elders. All of us need to know the difference between being worldly wise and spiritually wise. I’ll take the latter, any day. Though the world reveres youth and sets the aged “out to pasture,” God thinks quite differently. He tells us in Scripture we’re to stand in the presence of the elderly and to always show them respect. Then he links both of those to revering him.

He put old people in important roles throughout the Bible and in doing so, highlighted their accomplishments for all time. But what were those accomplishments? Each one dealt with kingdom business, the stuff of eternity.

The world prizes financial wealth, political power, external beauty, physical strength, all of which will one day disappear. God values the things that last: sacrificial giving, humble hearts, godly character, faithfulness to him.

Elderly Christians shine in these ways, which is why the Lord allows them to flourish spiritually, even while they’re declining physically. It behooves us to get close to these people and glean all we can before they’re taken from us. And if you have trouble identifying who they are, just watch for a walk that’s more like a shuffle. It’s a sure clue wisdom resides within.

“The righteous… will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, ‘The Lord is upright; he is my Rock’.” (Psalm 92:14,15)

Just Heavenly!

When I was a little girl, Mom forced my sister, brother and I to take piano lessons, just like most young children. I remember quite a few skirmishes with me on the piano bench refusing to practice and Mom in the kitchen saying, “You’re not getting off that bench till I hear you play!”

By 5th grade, I begged to go another musical route: the violin. If Mom would just let me take violin lessons, I’d practice without arguing. Really! Every day!

She didn’t give in until 7th grade. The junior high school had an orchestra, so she negotiated with me. “If you’ll join the orchestra and practice like you say, then OK.”

Poor Mom. She sprung for a violin and hauled me to Evanston every week for a 30 minute lesson, but fairly quickly the practice problem resurfaced. In the end, after two years of lessons and more conflicts than Mom could stand, she sold my violin out from under me announcing, “You’re done.”

But not quite. When Birgitta turned 4, she began begging to learn the violin. I ducked her pleas for quite a while, but when her best friend Ellen began begging her mom, too, we compromised by letting the girls split lessons, 15 minutes each.

I wasn’t prepared when my childhood longing to play the violin engulfed me once again. I rented a violin and took lessons by auditing Birgitta’s lessons. I practiced faithfully for nearly a year, performing a duet with my daughter in the family Christmas program. But she quickly left me behind in her abilities, and once again it became difficult to practice. (Surprise, surprise.)

I didn’t re-rent the violin and haven’t played since. Birgitta, on the other hand, studied for 10 years, wowing us all with her beautiful music. Ellen is still playing.

Yesterday in church we were treated to a performance by a trio of sisters, a pianist, a cellist and a violinist. As they played “To God Be the Glory” with flourish and force, my love for the violin surfaced immediately. I closed my eyes, longing to climb right into the music. Oh, how I wished it wouldn’t end.

Later they played “How Great Thou Art” with the same incredible style, the violinist’s shoulders dipping in commitment to the music, her ponytail swinging. Something deep in my soul responded not just to the violin music but to the Lord, and I started to cry. Wanting to breathe in the notes, I ached to make them mine. The craving was intense, unexplainable in words.

But God understood perfectly and let me know. He whispered, “This is what heaven will be like for you.”

And it took my breath away.

Now I know why I never stuck with practicing. No matter how hard I tried, I knew it would never sound like that. But some day…

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.” (Psalm 42:1)

Party Surprises

Widowhood brings many firsts, some excruciating, some not-so-bad, and some very good. Today I experienced a good one.

I’ve been so glad the house refurbishing is finished and everything nearly back in place that I decided to throw a celebratory party – for one. And what better place than the beach?

Pulling on my 8 year old bathing suit, I made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. Although I couldn’t do much about the ravages of time, I could do something about the winter-white skin. Digging under the bathroom sink, I found some “Sublime Bronze Tinted Self-Tanning Lotion,” a little tube of cream that promised exactly what I wanted:

“A soft, smooth, 100% natural-looking sunless tan in less than an hour.”

Squeezing a generous dollop into my palm, I got my first surprise when it came out as dark as a piece of Fanny May chocolate. Although I’ve never liked being pasty white, I didn’t think I could pull off “swarthy”.

Nevertheless, I smeared it all over, hoping for the best, then set to planning the party refreshments: a baggie of cantaloupe, a Nutri-grain bar, a bag of pretzels and a Coke Zero. Although Jack would’ve been a welcome guest, summertime beach rules discourage daytime doggie attendance. Besides, heavy black fur and hot sunshine aren’t a happy combination. Jack understood and found a cool napping spot on the new slate tile.

Climbing onto Birgitta’s 7th grade bike, I headed for my party at the shore, backpack full of reading and writing material, and the refreshments.

God apparently knew about the celebration ahead of time, because when I got there, he was ready with a second surprise. After pulling off my beach cover-up, my 65 year old body began sparkling like a convention of lightning bugs. Apparently the self-tanner had been laced with glitter, and it was all over me.

Always hoping to go unnoticed when in a swimming suit, today my time-worn skin made a noisy announcement as the sun bounced off every inch of me: “Look at my body! Look at my body!”

Although I hadn’t planned on an immediate swim, the chilly June water didn’t discourage me, and in I went, rubbing at the glitter with gusto. After that, the party went as planned, a lovely festivity for one.

God and I enjoyed the entertainment together, a long, uninterrupted conversation. And I got to eat all the food myself, sit in the best beach chair, and nap on my favorite towel. Several hours flew by, and when I arrived home, Jack was excited to hear all about it. I made sure to tell him that not all widow-firsts are negative.

Thanks to the Lord’s involvement, some are downright hilarious.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22)