It’s important to have an answer to that question.
You truly need purpose as you age.
Purpose is fundamental, so
your day is not hum-drum
or ‘just another page.”
I want my life to matter.
i want to touch another soul.
If you take the time to read my words,
then I feel I have reached my goal
.
We are expected to glorify Christ
in all that we do.
When your heart is filled with His love,
others will see Christ in you.
Open new chapters of your life.
It’s important to be more bold.
Take more risks, not physical,
but being more yourself.
That’s growing whole, not old.
I’d be old enough to know
that I should feed my spirit-
So my heart never wrinkles,
nourished by the thoughts within it.
No longer reminded of a chronological age,
I would not be bound by a calendar page.
I would let the young woman within have free reign.
Who knows what positive things I would gain.
Oh, I had better hurry.
I don’t want to be late,
You see, I have a very important date.
P.S.
Nothing strenuous, most things are “nix”.
My back reminds me I am 86!
When the movie star, Bette Davis, became elderly, she had a pillow with these words embroidered on it. “Old age is not for sissies.” I admired that platitude and to this day, I try to live by it. Last week we met a woman in a rehab facility who is an example of courage in the face of aging.
In 1919 when World War 1 was ending, Helga was six years old, and it was almost Christmas. The teacher was busy planning a Christmas program so before school one day, Helga took an empty paper sack and smoothed it out so she could create a poem. It is a medium length poem about the birth of Christ. Helga recited every word by heart. She’s also a modern day, on- the-spot poet. Here’s the one she spoke for me.
“There’s a lady in a jacket of pink.
When she used to wash dishes, she stood by the sink.
Her blouse is full of flowers.
I hope the Lord gives you many happy hours.”
After the poem Helga invited us to sing along as she played on a battered harmonica about twelve inches long with key of G holes on one side and key of C holes on the other. She sat in the seat of her walker and told stories of her childhood. She asked us to say the words from John 3:16 with her, which we did, and to sing, “You are My Sunshine,” while she accompanied us. Here’s a bit of her story:
“In 1913, I was born of German parents in a Hoboken cold-water, walk up flat. By the time Americans entered WW 1 in 1917 I was four years old, and I thought Germans were nice. Mama taught us that Jesus wanted us to love people, and that we should never put ourselves above anyone else. I was amazed when I learned during the war that we could be thrown in jail for speaking The Father Tongue. All along American Germans were persecuted as spies. When word came that the war was over, the streets filled with people. We hugged and sang. Folks in wagons and cars drove past waving or honking their horns. One wagon was pulled by a white horse and had a saloon woman sitting on the seat next to the driver. I knew she was from around the corner where we were never allowed to go. In the back of the wagon someone had stuck a dummy, head first, into a toilet bowl and everyone was saying it was the Kaiser.”
Hoboken, New Jersey
Helga will be 103 in February of 2016. I wanted to ask what she believed had kept her going this long, but I thought I knew the answer. I had once asked another 103 year old woman and her husband, who was 105 what kept them strong. They said it was being a follower of Jesus. I believe it. The joy of the Lord is Helga’s strength, too. That makes Helga no sissie at all.
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Reblogged from Rebekah Lyn’s Kitchen We woke Tuesday morning and found our excellent hostess, Pauline, had left out a bag of clothespins as well as her “clothes horse” drying rack. Tricia had sent Pauline a message during the laundry fiasco to see if it would be okay for us to use the clothesline. Pauline hadn’t […]
I had started the keto diet a couple of months before leaving on this trip and tried to keep close to it during the travels so I was excited to see the cheese. I put several cubes on my plate. When I ate the first one it didn’t taste like any cheese I’d had before and slowly it dawned on me that it was butter!
