Tag Archives: aging

Live for Today: Time is My Friend- by Donna

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Years ago at a family reunion, Karla and I were talking about middle school (which was called junior high then) band and chorus. She was a member of the marching Rebels, playing the mellophone and I was in chorus. Now just because I was a member does not mean I can sing well. But I love music and I love to sing (but only when no one is around). I told her about a song we sang that year called, “Time is My Friend”. She asked me to sing it for her. So, I said I would if no one was around. So we snuck behind the house. After my rendition, she smiled. “Sing it again, it’s beautiful. Please sing it again.” So, I sang it again while she gazed at me like I was Fraulein Maria and she was a Von Trapp child. We still laugh about that moment to this day. It was so stupidly silly. 

Friend or Enemy?

Recently, I wondered if time really is our friend. Maybe it is an enemy. Aging isn’t a fun process. My heart is drawn to elderly people I see when I am out running errands. I see some bent over, trying to walk through the store. Others struggle with their cane across the parking lot or hands shaking uncontrollably as they place their items on the conveyor belt. I watch my daddy with Alzheimer’s as time slowly dissolves pieces of his memory.

My cousin and I went to lunch Sunday. As we enjoyed a three hour meal catching up, inevitably the conversation at one point turned to us pointing out our gray hairs and increased number of wrinkles. We went as far as discussing that we wish we were more fond of needles, because we would be tempted to try Botox! I have another cousin, who is near my age, who is having hip replacement surgery this summer. I finally gave up and got contacts because I was tired of walking around with reading glasses on my head. (Turned out I needed bifocals!) Are we really at this point in life; our bodies going downhill? Moses was lucky. Deuteronomy 34:7, “Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died, yet his eyes were not weak nor his strength gone (NIV).

Back in Time

Another reason I wonder if time is a foe is you cannot get it back. My daughter and I went to the Cave Spring park the other day, just to relax and hang out. While she fell asleep under the shade tree, I sat and watched. Several children were wading in the cold creek and a birthday party was taking place under a pavilion. A sadness crept across me. When my children were young, we spent many a day at this park. It was the home of birthday parties, egg hunts, end of year school celebrations, fall festivals for school, jump rope and chorus performances, and the list could go on. I wished I could go back in time. Not just because I miss my kids being young, but because “what could I have done differently?” I watch them as young adults experiencing this new “adulting” stage of life and all its struggles.

My mama always said, “the older you kids get the more I worry about y’all.” At the time I thought “say it isn’t so” as I worried about a swallowed penny, a busted lip, or an infected ear. As usual Mama was correct. I long for the days when they, like the children I was watching, ran barefoot in the creek, splashing, laughing, without a care in the world. But time does not allow us to go backward.

Make the Best Use of Time

Good times or bad–there is no returning. The past can not be changed. Do not let your mind dwell, trying to determine how you could have better prepared them for the challenges of adulthood. This is a waste of time. Reminisce on the good times. Ephesians 5:16 “Making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.”

James 4:13-14 states, “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (NIV)

Look at the time set ahead of you. Thank God for each new day. The time that matters is the moment that is happening now. Make each day count. Let time be your friend. 

Time is My Friend

Time is my friend, for every time we meet

                    the time we spend is tender and sweet.

         Sweet songs to sing and pretty word to rhyme

                    And memories that cling thanks to time

Quiet paths to walk and long talks to talk

     And tall hills to climb and mountains of time

      And then time to go for everything must end

                     I’ll see you soon I know,

                     Knowing time is my friend, my friend.

                                      —Leslie Bricusse

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Aging Gracefully: My Hands -By Karla

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At forty-nine, my hands are starting to show signs of aging. Actually, they have been through quite a bit, as they have been used often over the decades.

Childhood

As a child, my hands held loads of stuffed animals. I shared my bed with my little sister and about twenty-five snugly, furry things every night. My hands have also petted numerous real animals. Mom was a stray-saver; I think we had fourteen cats—all outside of course—at one time. I’ve also had horses and dogs along the way. Yep, they have spent many hours with animals. 

My busy hands have spent hours at my Nana and Granddaddy’s. They have thrown a ball over the porch roof and prepared to catch it when my sister  would roll it back across. And on that porch, they have snapped green bean after green bean while we listened to many family tales of the olden day. They have held thousands of cards playing Old Maids, Author, Speed, and Rook. 

Teenage Years

Learning to drive was a real treat for my hands. I distinctly remember my oldest sister words. “Keep your hands on the steering wheel. And keep your eyes and TIRES on the road,” She peered briefly over the top of her newspaper. Then she pulled it upward again as if I had interrupted, and continued reading.

On my first date, my hands came in very handy! Leaving the theater, I walked straight into an oversized trash can. Yep! If it hadn’t been for my hands that I used to steady both, the trash can and I would have been rolling down the aisle!

Adulthood

In June of 1989, they carried my college diploma and my bridal boutique on two consecutive Saturdays. Over the next several years that followed, they held my two bundles of joy.

My hands had the pleasure of holding metal chains as I taught the girls to swing. They held cookie dough as I shaped their little hands into turkeys for Thanksgiving year after year. Later, they had the privilege of toting their bags filled with basketball and volleyball jerseys and gear.

More Recent Years

I have used my hands to wipe the tears from our eyes when my girls’ precious friend Amanda passed away from pancreatic cancer. They have had the blessing of holding my adult dad’s hand in the nursing home in his final days.

Over the years, they have prayed. Prayed for salvations, for peace, for mercy, for health, for patience, and for comfort.

Yes, my hands are aging , and yes, I dab a little cream on them every now and then to slow down the visible aging. However, I am beginning to settle my in my thoughts that I will enjoy my hands turning into a nana’s hands.

I want grandkids to curl their tiny fingers around my imperfect, wrinkled hands. I desire them to draw the gray-headed, Old Maid granny from my fingers and giggle with them.

Yes, I will take these aging hands and gladly help future generations learn to fold them humbly in prayer.

Harper Grace Allen

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