I'm not sure what to say, Katie. I'm an Irish twin. My brother is 11 months older than me, both born in 1940. During the recent month of January we were both 84, but then he rushed ahead, leaving me to wait out the remaining 11 months when I will join him for 1 month, the 12th one, at the ripe old age of 85 before he skips ahead again.
Some 15 or 20 years age it was thought that I might be harboring pancreatic cancer--never a good diagnosis, but even worse then than now. At the time I was leading a small group after the large group of us women watched a video in the Beth Moore teaching on Daniel. It was a perfect timing for me. In the video Beth said that whenever there is a trial there is a deliverance.
1. we are delivered from the trial: It's not cancer after all.
2. we are delivered through the trial: The treatment works and we are healed.
3. we are delivered by the trial: We die and go to Heaven.
When my small group met I felt that I must tell them that it was possible that I had pancreatic cancer--I had told no one outside the family. A woman in the group said, "Oh, we know what we want. We want to be delivered from the trial!"
I said, "No. We (I) want to end well. I want my kids and friends and husband and whoever is watching or cares to see the grace of God and his mercy at work in my life no matter what." And that was the truth.
I must admit that I'm somewhat of a baby where illness is concerned and thankfully I have had very little practice . And obviously in this case I was "delivered from" the trial. There is still apparently some little shrinking cyst that gets watched from time to time, but nobody is concerned about it.
I guess the point is acceptance. Honestly, I often want to wrap you up in the Gift that only God can give. (Not sure what he wants to give you right now.) But he does use people, so stay close to the people he has given to you. A book that has helped me a lot recently, besides the Bible, is Alexy Navalny's autobiography (can't remember the title and I've lent the book out). It's about his life and thoughts and belief and how he managed in the Russian prison system. Between two poisonings. The last one of which killed him. But I must say he ended well.
This is probably way too long and rambling. Elihu and I love your beautiful writing.We get to visit your farm and ours. Thanks. Love you from far away. Lynn
I hear you on ending well, how that is a deep desire for you and for me too. I am glad that you didn’t have cancer and you had all this time.
That is so wise and loving to suggest I stay close to the people who love me. We just went out to dinner with old friends spur of the moment. It’s a life long walk to begin to experience God’s love. Navalny’s book sounds quite good.
Thank you for reading and loving my writing. Love you too, Katie
Beautiful and brutally honest, my friend. We fight off cognitive decline with Brain HQ, a huge website that has custom-created brain games to stimulate the mind and stay sharp. Really works!
Lord have mercy. The creeping fear mentioned in your admission of cognitive decline is sobering. I transport patients with dementia almost every day. Some, as you noted, are not treated well.
Oh yes, Lord have mercy. It must be tough on you transporting people with dementia because they remind a person of how our minds can leave before our bodies do. But what a gift you are to them with being so compassionate.
Thank you Katie. Your words humble me. I struggle with compassion fatigue towards them: thoughts about how wretched they must have been to be in that situation. Demonic delusion! As you say, I’m reminded now of my mind “leaving me” when I forget to love my neighbor. God bless you and may He grant you patience in long suffering. Pray for me please that I might be granted patience as well.
I will say a prayer. And ask the Lord to help you find ways to fill up your well so compassion fatigue doesn’t drag you down. And maybe they aren’t wretched either. Memory and mind aren’t all who we are. They may be close to the Lord—the fellowship of sufferings…and one day the power of resurrection.
What my heart longs for most is Home. As we age, maybe that heart-longing becomes a more defined ache. Once when praying for the health of a very dear friend with spina-bifida, and by then wheel-chair bound, God gave me a taste of His Home which has 'ruined' me. It was the home I never had as a child (8 to 13 in a 'missionary' children's institution.) A home I knew I did not make for our own children. Yet our Father's mercy is wider than we can ever imagine. He says He will bear us till our gray hairs. I'm 85 and have lots of them! Thank you, Katie, for opening your heart to us.
Mine longs for home too. Though the ache was sharper when I was younger. What a gift to have that foretaste of Home here in this life. His mercy is high as the heavens. You’re an inspiration showing how God walks with us into old age. Thank you for your wisdom and encouragement.
New reader here! This is such a raw, beautiful, down-to-earth piece of writing! I'm thinking a lot about my old age for some reason... I'm turning 33 in a few weeks, yet old age is on my mind a lot. Not only about my own future, but how we treat our elders as well! I still have not found the "right" man and do not have children (I long for both), yet I'm willing to accept that God has other plans for me. I agree, aging is a fearsome experience as it should be! It can be an extremely humbling experience and requires lots of strength if you want to age with grace and, hopefully, a tiny bit of wisdom. Thank you for your beautiful writing. It keeps me inspired!
When I was your age I thought about old age too. I’m glad you’re thinking about how we treat our elders because it’s easy to forget about people as they age. I didn’t meet my husband until I was thirty and he was not the man who met the checklists I had in my head, but was far better. I hope he enters your life soon. Oh yes on aging taking grace. I hope I can grab ahold of some. Thank you so much for subscribing and for your very kind, supportive words.
I'm not sure what to say, Katie. I'm an Irish twin. My brother is 11 months older than me, both born in 1940. During the recent month of January we were both 84, but then he rushed ahead, leaving me to wait out the remaining 11 months when I will join him for 1 month, the 12th one, at the ripe old age of 85 before he skips ahead again.
Some 15 or 20 years age it was thought that I might be harboring pancreatic cancer--never a good diagnosis, but even worse then than now. At the time I was leading a small group after the large group of us women watched a video in the Beth Moore teaching on Daniel. It was a perfect timing for me. In the video Beth said that whenever there is a trial there is a deliverance.
1. we are delivered from the trial: It's not cancer after all.
2. we are delivered through the trial: The treatment works and we are healed.
3. we are delivered by the trial: We die and go to Heaven.
When my small group met I felt that I must tell them that it was possible that I had pancreatic cancer--I had told no one outside the family. A woman in the group said, "Oh, we know what we want. We want to be delivered from the trial!"
I said, "No. We (I) want to end well. I want my kids and friends and husband and whoever is watching or cares to see the grace of God and his mercy at work in my life no matter what." And that was the truth.
I must admit that I'm somewhat of a baby where illness is concerned and thankfully I have had very little practice . And obviously in this case I was "delivered from" the trial. There is still apparently some little shrinking cyst that gets watched from time to time, but nobody is concerned about it.
I guess the point is acceptance. Honestly, I often want to wrap you up in the Gift that only God can give. (Not sure what he wants to give you right now.) But he does use people, so stay close to the people he has given to you. A book that has helped me a lot recently, besides the Bible, is Alexy Navalny's autobiography (can't remember the title and I've lent the book out). It's about his life and thoughts and belief and how he managed in the Russian prison system. Between two poisonings. The last one of which killed him. But I must say he ended well.
This is probably way too long and rambling. Elihu and I love your beautiful writing.We get to visit your farm and ours. Thanks. Love you from far away. Lynn
I hear you on ending well, how that is a deep desire for you and for me too. I am glad that you didn’t have cancer and you had all this time.
That is so wise and loving to suggest I stay close to the people who love me. We just went out to dinner with old friends spur of the moment. It’s a life long walk to begin to experience God’s love. Navalny’s book sounds quite good.
Thank you for reading and loving my writing. Love you too, Katie
Beautiful and brutally honest, my friend. We fight off cognitive decline with Brain HQ, a huge website that has custom-created brain games to stimulate the mind and stay sharp. Really works!
Thank you so much for reading this. I’ll have to check that Brain HQ.
Lord have mercy. The creeping fear mentioned in your admission of cognitive decline is sobering. I transport patients with dementia almost every day. Some, as you noted, are not treated well.
Oh yes, Lord have mercy. It must be tough on you transporting people with dementia because they remind a person of how our minds can leave before our bodies do. But what a gift you are to them with being so compassionate.
Thank you Katie. Your words humble me. I struggle with compassion fatigue towards them: thoughts about how wretched they must have been to be in that situation. Demonic delusion! As you say, I’m reminded now of my mind “leaving me” when I forget to love my neighbor. God bless you and may He grant you patience in long suffering. Pray for me please that I might be granted patience as well.
I will say a prayer. And ask the Lord to help you find ways to fill up your well so compassion fatigue doesn’t drag you down. And maybe they aren’t wretched either. Memory and mind aren’t all who we are. They may be close to the Lord—the fellowship of sufferings…and one day the power of resurrection.
What my heart longs for most is Home. As we age, maybe that heart-longing becomes a more defined ache. Once when praying for the health of a very dear friend with spina-bifida, and by then wheel-chair bound, God gave me a taste of His Home which has 'ruined' me. It was the home I never had as a child (8 to 13 in a 'missionary' children's institution.) A home I knew I did not make for our own children. Yet our Father's mercy is wider than we can ever imagine. He says He will bear us till our gray hairs. I'm 85 and have lots of them! Thank you, Katie, for opening your heart to us.
Mine longs for home too. Though the ache was sharper when I was younger. What a gift to have that foretaste of Home here in this life. His mercy is high as the heavens. You’re an inspiration showing how God walks with us into old age. Thank you for your wisdom and encouragement.
New reader here! This is such a raw, beautiful, down-to-earth piece of writing! I'm thinking a lot about my old age for some reason... I'm turning 33 in a few weeks, yet old age is on my mind a lot. Not only about my own future, but how we treat our elders as well! I still have not found the "right" man and do not have children (I long for both), yet I'm willing to accept that God has other plans for me. I agree, aging is a fearsome experience as it should be! It can be an extremely humbling experience and requires lots of strength if you want to age with grace and, hopefully, a tiny bit of wisdom. Thank you for your beautiful writing. It keeps me inspired!
When I was your age I thought about old age too. I’m glad you’re thinking about how we treat our elders because it’s easy to forget about people as they age. I didn’t meet my husband until I was thirty and he was not the man who met the checklists I had in my head, but was far better. I hope he enters your life soon. Oh yes on aging taking grace. I hope I can grab ahold of some. Thank you so much for subscribing and for your very kind, supportive words.
Beautifully expressed. I felt like I was there in your farmhouse with you.
Thank you so very much for reading this and for your support. I hope you're getting some rest and that we can chat soon!
You write so eloquently and with such feeling!
Thank you so much for your kind words and for reading this one.