Now Featured at the Patheos Book Club
Rich in Years
Finding Peace and Purpose in a Long Life
By Johann Christoph Arnold
Book Excerpt: Accepting Changes
Old age creeps up on everyone. Most of my life I didn't want to think about it. Then obstacles began to appear, trying to slow me down. First I lost my voice and could not speak for months. Then I had trouble with my heart. Both of my eyes needed surgery, and one eye is completely blind. Then my hearing deteriorated. It seemed like one thing after another was breaking down.
Thankfully my wife and I still walk a few miles every day. I can still read and type enough to do my work. Still, how many of us are like the friend of mine who once exclaimed, "My body is aging, but I am not!" I'm sure many find themselves in similar states of denial. Naturally, letting go of all the activities that we used to do is difficult. It can be hard to accept our changing role in the family or workplace as others take over our responsibilities. This can make us feel useless and depressed.
A sense of humor about the trials of old age is more important than we realize. Laughter can brighten the days of all those around us who think they are too busy with important things to joke around. Sometimes laughter is the only answer when we forget people's names or where we put our keys. My doctor, who is older than me, once joked, "All my friends walk faster than they used to. They also talk faster and quieter. They even look a little fuzzier. Everything's changing! Or is it me?" As my friend Pete Seeger likes to sing:
Old age is golden, or so I've heard said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I crawl into bed,
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up...
Less of a laughing matter is a loss of mobility, starting with the need for canes and progressing to walkers, wheelchairs, and bed rest. All these things encroach on our independence, and we find that activities that were once easy now require effort and stamina. No wonder the bumper sticker says, "Old age is not for sissies!"
Other aspects of growing old are even more difficult to bear: the death of a spouse or the onset of dementia. Sudden illness strikes and one is confronted with one's own mortality. These are very real fears, and ones I've dealt with personally.
Often, too, we have regrets about the past. We may feel we didn't succeed in our chosen career, earn as much as we could have, or advance as far as we deserved. We may wish we had raised our children differently. Personally, I feel I have missed far too many opportunities to show love to other people.
But dwelling on these thoughts only creates bitterness and isolates us from others, even from beloved family members. The best way to deal with the mess we may have made of our lives, or the difficult burdens we may carry, is to accept God's grace as we face the future.
Perhaps this is the key to making the most of one's last years. Instead of focusing on our regrets, we can choose to give thanks to God for the life we have lived. Meister Eckhart said that with the advancing of age there should eventually be only one phrase left in our vocabulary—"Thank you." Such a feeling of gratitude doesn't come easily. But when it does, we realize that an exciting phase of our lives is starting in which we can still contribute, in new ways, to the good of humankind.
Leslie Underwood, a single sixty-five-year-old woman in my church, has been blind since her youth. Rather than rebelling against the added difficulties of aging, she discovered a better way.
Old age is a blessing to me. God's grace and wisdom have led me to a more peaceful life. And I'm realizing that old age can be a gift given to the young. Did you ever notice how very young children are attracted to the elderly? Isn't that part of God's plan?
When I die, I hope it will be seen as a gift to those who are so fearful and perplexed about the end of their own lives. I used to think of death as a dark and mysterious valley of transition to be avoided. But since becoming a Christian about fifteen years ago, eternity became real, and much of my fear of death has gone. I wait for the Lord's promises and can truthfully ask, "Death, where is thy sting?"
I do still have regrets about the past. Mine was not an easy life; I was raised in a chaotic environment with alcohol, violence, parental absences, and neglect. But I was able to move beyond myself by becoming a social worker and helping people whom others didn't want. For some of them, their fear of death was more real and immediate than mine. Now I live with other Christians, and the fear and distrust is slowly melting away, replaced by acceptance and love, which leads to spiritual peace.