Just before the pandemic of 2020 shut
down the United States, my family celebrated my 80th birthday at a
local restaurant. My gifts included a beautiful album that reviewed my years
with photos and notes from my children and grandchildren.
The next
day two friends surprised me with a seafood dinner and a gift of 80 roses! Through
the years, my husband and I have received other gifts as well. But they were intangible
gifts—and perhaps not as welcome.
The Gift of
Patience:
When I tell
my husband “Lunch is ready,” he asks, “What was that?” When I tell him who called
on the phone, I get the same response. Even with hearing aids, he misses the
first parts of sentences. To compound the problem, my voice has weakened.
But the good news is that we force
each other to be patient. I know I’m going to have to repeat whatever I say.
And he’s learning that he should take a moment to think before he responds. If
he pauses, he often deciphers my words.
Bill is five
years my senior, and I can see the difference this makes. He takes longer to
climb stairs. But I’m patient with him because I know I’m just a few steps
behind him.
As
Christians, we pray to develop the fruit of the Spirit: Love, joy, peace,
patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control (Galatians
5:22-23). Yet so often we chafe against the very things that water that fruit
tree. While we may not enjoy the effort it takes to cultivate an orchard, we can
delight in the fruit that develops. In this case—patience.
The Gift of
Compassion:
Anyone who
has lived several decades has survived losses—losses of loved ones, losses of
jobs, losses of relationships. Losses hurt. You grieve. How can the world go on
as usual? People are pumping gas. Laughing at jokes. Shopping. But you feel
numb. Time heals, but for some losses, it takes much time.
Our youngest
child, our only daughter, returned to her heavenly father just a few hours
after her birth. In more recent years, my four siblings have died along with
two of my husband’s three. And his third sibling, confined to a nursing home
that allows no visitors, suffers from dementia.
A person
never really “gets over” the loss of loved ones. You just learn to go on. You
survive. And as you survive, you feel greater compassion for others
experiencing loss. You mourn with those who mourn because you know how much it
hurts. You’ve received the gift of compassion. Now you pass it on.
The Gift of
Perspective:
Times are
bad. We wonder if end times have arrived. And we’ve had a lot to ponder during
the pandemic. But as you get older, you realize that things have been bad
before. I’m sure Europeans and Asians felt the same way during the Black
Plague. And we’ve had health scares before—scarlet fever, polio, tuberculosis. Diseases
for which we lack inoculation wreak havoc.
But as you age, you find you’ve
survived your share of challenges. You mellow. And you take more of a “this too
shall pass” approach.
Yes, things
are bad, but God’s on His throne. We wait and pray and work for the good. We
wash our hands, practice social distancing and accept the vaccine. And we
trust. “For we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love
him . . . .” (Romans 8:28 NIV).
Wrap Up:
Don’t be
too proud to accept help along your journey. Wear those hearing aids. Audiologists
tell me if a person does not wear hearing aids when they need them, they lose
word discrimination. That means that even if a hearing aid provides the sounds
of speech, the brain no longer interprets them. Conversation adds sparkle to
life. Don’t miss out on it.
Be patient
with spouses and loved ones. After all, you’re on this journey together. So
hold hands and walk on, adjusting to one another’s pace.
Talk to
others about your grief; accept their gestures of comfort. Let them sit with
you and pray with you. Join a grief support group. Seek professional help if you
feel you would benefit. Share your perspective with others by telling them how
you’ve survived challenges by God’s grace.
Unwrap
those gifts of aging. They add beauty not only to your life but they bless the
lives of others as you pass them on. Your family and friends will love you all
the more for your patience and compassion. And your perspective offers hope to
a generation challenged by the pandemic. Things may not be perfect, but they
may be perfectly fine—if we embrace the gifts of aging.