Aging Gracefully
No lotions, trendy notions nor pickle-juice potions can stave off the consequences of sin and time on the physical body. Aging is a fact of life that rapidly accelerates as each decade passes by.
For the past two years, I’ve been visiting the care facility into which my mother agreed moving. A random resident releases the front door security latch. Exhaling both relief and gratitude, I inhale an atmosphere of ancient ointment and simmering soup stock mingled with someone’s soiled laundry. Yuck! Even with a multi-shift-rapidly-turning-over staff, this institution does it’s caregiving best. Holding my nose, I stride toward the target assisted living apartment. A familiar form answers my knock with unkempt grey hair and miss-buttoned, meal-splattered garments. Chastising myself for noticing a tarnished surface first, I focus on the deeper, inner beauty of the woman who bore me. Her beaming smile and ready embrace reveal the loving soul I’m proud to call my mother. As she leads me inside, I recall Philippians 4:8 “…whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy…think about such things…”
Mother is getting noticeably older. The last several years are not covered in any daughter’s elderly-parent manual. Part of me ponders if this experience is a glimpse into my own future.
Decades of petty disagreements long forgiven and forgotten, our abiding love for each other prevails. She glows happily to have her daughter’s company. I prepare a manicure while we sit and visit. As I wash, massage and lotion I marvel at frail hands that have done so many things! Conversation topics follow a predictable path. “How is the family?” (Particular names have faded from her mind, but she still cares.) “Is it cold outside?” (My physical comfort interests her.) “What other plans do you have?”(She longs to hear of an outside world she no longer follows.) Trying to recall the past is usually futile. She apologizes for being forgetful. “I forget things too, mom.” Glad for this interval of time, I remind her I am blessed by all her mothering: raising children in a Christian home, operating a wringer washer, manual typewriter and sewing machine. She currently walks with assistance but I am thankful she still walks this earth. We pray together, swap bible stories while we set about tidying up the down-sized space she now calls home. Unhurried time, attention and occasional sweet treats- are meager offerings compared to the lifetime of selfless parenting she has poured out onto me and my siblings. Parenting that hasn’t yet ended.
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I [the LORD] will not forget you.” Isaiah 49:15
Rarely, a forgotten memory surfaces. She recalls weeping while watching for me on the day I walked home late from grammar school. She once arranged a “Santa” neighbor delivery the year I had measles at Christmastime. Memories that highlight how abiding love endures.
Praying for her daily, I fondly remember the mom she once was while cherishing the mom she remains. My attitude on aging shifts for the better. Every life stage brings greater appreciation for God’s gracious presence through our personal interactions. A spiritual presence that surpasses lotions, potions or silly notions about retaining youth. Messy hair, dirty clothing and forgetfulness do not diminish one’s value in God’s sight. He carefully and steadfastly cultivates our purpose this side of heaven, while we celebrate together our hope in His eternal promise. A generational promise to keep passing down.
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.”
Proverbs 31:25