Aging With Dignity

How long shall I have perplexity in my mind, and grief in my heart, day after day? Psalm 13:2

Sometimes life is hard. There was a day I could spring up from wherever I was sitting and go do what needed doing. Today I rise like some royal potentate from his throne: slowly, regally, and with dignity. It isn’t because I am important. No, it’s because I want to allow my body time to realize I’m on the move; it needs that time to send some fresh oxygenated blood to the brain so that I won’t collapse after I’ve gotten all vertical.

I’ve been doing some projects around the house and find myself somewhat irritated that tasks that used to take me minutes now take hours. I built some homemade storage shelves in the shed out back the other day, and a project that should have taken thirty to forty-five minutes took ninety minutes, instead.

Then last week I was putting together some raised flower boxes (as I no longer want to bend over to pull weeds or cut flowers), and the components were almost too heavy for me to carry to where I’d intended to place them.

That’s OK, though. Aging, as they say, beats the alternative, although there are some who might take issue with that, as well. Sometimes aging can bring with it a lot of pain and misery. If I can laugh about mine, it really isn’t that bad, is it?

One of the things that helps me most as I get older is being able to take stock in where I am, what I’m doing, and noting how I’m feeling. Even a toddler is getting older as they reach a new day. Aging is part of life, and the things I could do as a young whipper snapper are things that either take longer now, or are now beyond my ability to actually do.  I can either stew about it, or just give the task a nod and decide whether or not it needs to be done, if it needs to be done now, and if it needs to be done by me.

The key to aging gracefully is acknowledging that I’ve never done anything gracefully in my life, so why should I expect aging to be any different? Life’s too short to fret over all the “woulda, coulda, shouldas” of life. My goal isn’t to age gracefully as much as it is to continue doing things that matter. I want to be useful. I want to be helpful. I want to be light where there is darkness. I want to offer a selection of solutions where there’s a problem, or to at least sit quietly with someone who’s in pain so they don’t need to suffer alone.

I want my life to look like the Prayer of Saint Francis (Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; etc.). None of that requires a strong back, six pack abs, or a brain as quick as greased lightning. It just requires a shift in focus. The key is compassion.

Compassion is the capacity to move beyond survival – to become one with the other. Too much time and energy is devoted to identifying differences, rather than commonalities. Yes, we’re all different. I can’t walk a mile in your shoes, nor you a mile in mine. What we can do, though, is walk together and talk about what it’s like to be who we are, and to do so without fear of judgment. That’s hard to do, though, because we’re under a constant barrage of judgment.

How many people fail to do the right thing because they’re worried about what someone else might say, think, or do? We all want to belong, but at what price? I don’t think God put me here to please you, but to please God. However, that doesn’t mean I can ignore you, injure you, or abuse you. My job is to love you. Full stop. 

Everyone’s a sinner, so God doesn’t say, “Hate the sin; love the sinner.” God says, “Love.” Period. I can do that – as long as I don’t try to stand up too quickly here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)