When I'm 82...

[heyiheardthat]

I was challenged by my counselor to write something about what I'd like my life to look like if I were to look back on it 50 years from now. This is what I came up with...

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It isn’t easy getting around these days. My bones are weary, my joints are achy, and when I enter the room, it often takes me a moment to remember why I went in there in the first place. At 82, my memory isn’t so good these days. Out of necessity, the trivial things of this age have been purged to save space for what’s vital for the eternal. I spent my youth wasting copious amounts of time memorizing scads of random facts, simply to appear knowledgeable and superior. I reserved plenty of real estate in my brain for tidbits that eventually, I would discover to be of no use to me. I had an answer for everything, yet I lacked any sort of valuable wisdom to back up what I said. I foolishly talked out of my backside a lot.

In my teen years, it became apparent that I had the gift of articulation. It was manifested in detailed writings and conversations I would have with people. It was obviously there, though it was infantile in its development. I could express myself very well. God gave me this gift as a freebie; I suspect mostly for survival purposes. Perhaps it was the free spot in the center of the bingo card that was my life. Unbeknownst to me, something else dwelled within that was only in its embryonic stage at the time. It was a God-given wisdom that would only develop through years of adversity and emotional hardship. It lurked behind several locked doors far in the future. I would have to wait for the other numbers on my bingo card to be called to unlock the doors that would eventually lead to my personal bingo. (You’ll have to forgive me for the bingo analogy… I’m old after all, and that’s what blows us old ladies’ skirts up. Anyhow… )

I began my 20’s feeling lonely and resentful, mocking and insulting anything and everything. I carried a defensive attitude that turned people away before they had the chance to offend me first. My baggage got heavier with every year, as my life slowed to a crawl from lugging so much dead weight. I denied that there was anything wrong with me. I was a victim of every circumstance, and I wondered when the world was going to wake up and see how marvelous I really was. It was my self-centered, arrogant flesh that spawned this sense of entitlement. I played the passive pushover for many years, and I became resentful of being taken advantage of- so I dared anyone to come along and try to take anything I felt I deserved just for being human.

In my 30’s, that self-centered logic began taking hits of a divine nature. That sense of self was taken all the way down to the ground until I had no choice but to humble myself and look past the end of my own nose. There was a big world out there just beyond my schnozzola, and my pride kept me from accessing it. One day, God knocked on the door to the embryo of understanding and said, “It’s time to water this and bring it into the light.” I was terrified. It meant dealing with things, killing them and burying them once and for all. I wasn’t sure I could live with the person I’d become as a result. “NO.” I said. He laughed at my rebellion. He knew things I didn’t know. He opened the door and shed a blinding light on that embryonic seed. He was going to pour on the Miracle Gro until it hurt… I just knew it. I’ve seen what it does to tomatoes, and I wasn’t interested, thank you very much. Try as you may though, you can’t fight God. I relented.

I took the changes in stride. I still wore the cloak of pride and indignation, but when the garments got too heavy, I was OK with taking them off. That was, until I would go toe to toe with adversity- then I was quick to take up that armor again. I wasn’t strong or wise enough yet to battle without it. At 32, things got particularly intense. I faced a series of stressful events that caused me to go looking for that armor again. It was gone. I ran to the door that led back to my old self, hoping to find comfort there… but that door was now locked. God would not allow me to access that person anymore. He reminded me that with my baptism, that person was dead and buried. He did, however, let me have a small visit with that former self. I thought it was what I wanted. I tried to embrace that person, but somehow I couldn’t. As much as I thought it was still who I really was, I was sorely mistaken. I felt like a sitting duck. Couldn’t go backward, couldn’t go forward. I was terrified. “Where is my COAT?!” I cry out.

He gave me a coat… but it wasn’t the one I was accustomed to wearing. It was lighter, and much easier to battle in. He called it the armor of God, and apparently, I wouldn’t be shedding that armor anytime soon. I was going to use it to ward off people who threatened to exterminate that seed of wisdom that He was growing. That armor was the best tool I could have ever received. I used it to preserve and rebuild my self-worth. I used it to protect the growing wisdom against the folly of fools who sought to tear down what God was building up.

In my 40’s, I used those finely honed gifts of articulation and understanding, coupled with my compassionate and helping nature to counsel others through their own crises. I became more proactive in helping others discover their full potential, and encouraged them to partner with God to remove the shackles that kept them grounded. I watched my children learn to use their gifts and talents to further the Kingdom, and begin families of their own who would in turn do the same.

In my 50’s, I continued to learn and grow and become more unbending and uncompromising. I learned to discipline myself and be more open to admitting that I don’t have all the answers. I walked with complete transparency, unable to disguise my flaws, aware that every misstep was an opportunity to teach, or mislead. I learned to be myself, be happy with that person, and to not dishonor God and the way He made me by declaring myself unworthy or unlovable. The decade was all about extruding the last remnants of the past from my life that still created some stain in the corners. I was ready to press on and rid myself of the stains once and for all. It was painful, but I learned what a great painkiller the word can be. And, I didn’t have to worry about whether or not my insurance would cover it.

My 60’s were a process of polishing and refining. In a changing world where things only continue to grow more urgent, the testing becomes more intense, and sometimes it’s necessary to go back to basics and brush up. This is something that has never changed, though the closer we get to the Lord’s return, has become something that’s no longer a luxury, or something we might be able to squeeze in between pill popping and denture cleaning. I had to continually remind myself that my teeth weren’t going with me to the pearly gates, and there is no “ideal” time for prayer. You just do it. I practiced this a lot, and I made others put down the Efferdent and Centrum bottles and do it with me.

On to the 70’s… a decade when I watched my grandchildren fight the hardest spiritual battles of their lives, as did my children, the parents who raised them. I watched with deep admiration, and almost with a little jealousy as they quickly donned the armor of God in favor of rejecting popular, worldly things, wishing I would have come into that wisdom much sooner than I had, yet knowing that because I didn’t, they now have the wisdom that they do, as early as they do. I learned during these years to appreciate the hardships I’d endured, and recount them to others as blessings rather than curses. I walked with an attitude that even if I’d achieved nothing recognizable to the masses as being fantastic, I’d achieved greatness in the eyes of the few lives that I DID touch. I may not be remembered in history books, but the legacy of love that I birthed through my personal struggles will be continued through each subsequent generation, and will be recognized by those God chooses to touch with it. I learned in my 70’s that not everything noteworthy is documented in black and white. Sometimes, it just IS.

And now here I am, in the freshman stage of my 80’s, yet the twilight of my life. I won’t say that things are growing dim, though; if anything, the light only gets brighter the closer I get to seeing the face of God up close and personal. No, I didn’t start any revolutions, and there are some things that I might have done differently, but overall, when I look back, I see a life well lived. I see a little girl who started out a speck on the planet, hoping to be recognized turn out to be someone larger than life who didn’t have to go out of her way to try. She wasn’t everything to the world, but she realized that to achieve fulfillment, she didn’t have to be. To be a blessing even to a few in your lifetime is a gift whose value is terribly underrated. Being everything to everyone is exasperating and fruitless. Better to stick to baking a few pies here and there rather than compromise the quality of the whole bakery. At this age, our cholesterol doesn’t afford us that luxury anyhow.

I am happy, I am satisfied, and if I died tomorrow, I would have no regrets. I tore down some walls, and I built some back up. I took a few wrong turns but was not so stubborn as to not stop and ask the Lord for directions. I broke some hearts, yet helped others mend. I was, and still am, human. I am still walking with God, and have surpassed the Heartbreak Hill portion of the marathon. I’m pounding out the last mile with the same grace towards others that people exhibited towards me when I began the first mile of this journey. It’s been a great run, and I’m looking forward to breaking the tape at the finish line. Lord, please have lots of water waiting for me. An old lady gets mighty dehydrated after all that running.

[Abomnablesnogrl]

Dec. 18, 2008 at 1:26 AM

Wow Jen!  Just wow.  You've done it yet again.

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I like this exercise better than the one my counselor made me do.  She made me write my obituary.

[jspy72]

Dec. 19, 2008 at 6:37 AM

Yet again, you rock my socks!