By Jim Nichols

I felt that I was a larger person after talking to her. Have you ever had that experience? When I approached her front door, I was smaller than I was when I returned to the car. My part of the conversation was minimal; she did most of the speaking and I am not sure what got her started. I suspect it was God.

Many of those who have taught us in life have been older than we were at the time. Our parents, teachers, aunts, uncles, even car mechanics and medical people—they have led us based on their experiences and we have grown because of it. When we get older, however, we encounter fewer and fewer people who have more years than we do. Additional years, of course, do not necessarily result in greater wisdom, but they do merit our attention. This woman grabbed my heart and mind and poured into them. I am not sure this is exactly what she said, but this is what I heard.

The outline of her comments basically was a recounting of her career. Her remarkable memory of people and specific comments took her from a young first employee through steps of increased responsibility. She spoke of the year, finally, when she felt her energy clearly lagging. A medical diagnosis identified the serious problem. Subsequent treatment aided her continuing activity, but the illness was a significant step in her aging process.

She said that some had accused her of promoting herself subtly for more significant positions. She denied that, however, and repeatedly said, “I just tried to do my job in each spot. People seemed to recognize that.”

What was most helpful to me, however, was her wisdom regarding the consequences (positive and negative) of her aging.

This is a version of her words. 

“I was once young and strong with lots of energy. As I got older, I got shorter and weaker. Now my grip is so weak that I can’t even hold onto things well. I can see and hear pretty well, but I am unsteady on my feet. 

I soon learned that I could not physically do what I used to be able to do. More than that, I have learned that my physical inabilities are not the only ones I have. My aspirations for activity have had to be adjusted. I am having to get comfortable with who I am now rather than who I was then. (She said this in different ways more than once.) I also have had to admit there are many things I will never do or do again. I have had to resist spending attention on the past because the present is now.”

She continued as she became more philosophical.

“I have learned to live with fewer absolutes now. I used to get more upset with stupid things people did, said, or believed, but I have largely gotten past that. You may call me wishy-washy, but I prefer to think of trying to be better at leaving matters in God’s hands. I still have standards, but those are different from absolutes. In general, we must learn to live with some matters unresolved; exceptions may often be more reasonable and certainly can make life for each of us less troubling. It is more like life is a spiral rather than a straight line.

I lived a life in which I used to have lots of projects on my plate. Now I have learned to emphasize people rather than projects. If I slip into loneliness, I try to look around to see who needs me in some way; I always see them. If I can make it to 90 (and she is close), I will be able to thank God for a full and wonderful life.”

It seems that we learn some aspects of life after the time when we could have used that knowledge; retrospect is quite clear. Why could I not have seen that truth then?

The word “plan” has a built-in future orientation. As age draws us closer to leaving this life that we have “planned” so carefully, I am thankful for this person of God who reminded me on her porch of another life waiting for me—a gift from God’s grace.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain