Editor’s note: Scott here. I messed up the past two days of devotionals and am resending them with the pictures attached. So sorry!
Whoever said aging isn’t for sissies wasn’t joking. These days Pete and I have some interesting conversations as a result of our slowly diminishing brain capacity (yes, it happens and no 60 is NOT the new 40). If we were to get defensive about this, it could get ugly. Maybe we would poke fun at each other as a way to hide our discomfort at these new experiences of vocabulary lapses. Or perhaps we would get irritated and speak rudely to one another because really, this can be scary stuff. Here’s a typical exchange….
“Pete, what was that guy’s name who had that business that we used to call?”
Long pause. “What business and why did we call him?”
“Don’t be so detail-oriented, you know, when the thing upstairs breaks?”
“What thing honey?” Please note that this is accompanied with the first hints of exasperation in both look and tone. He’s not a saint after all!!!
“You know, that thing we wash our clothes in…” I have a certain look of my own. Sheesh, can’t the man read my mind?
“Oh, Bill.” Pete says in a grand leap of logic and brilliant recall.
“Yes, my goodness, you sure took your sweet time coming up with…hmmmm…Bill was it? Bill. Yes. Bill is the guy.”
Honestly, this stuff happens. We are consciously choosing to acknowledge this slow gradual decline. We are working hard – and quite deliberately – to age with grace. It’s not easy but it sure beats the alternative. We are following in the tradition of Pete’s mom; we are laughing a LOT and enjoying the ride. Shame is a sneaky so-and-so tempting us to focus on all that we lack. Saying no to shame is as simple and as difficult as the discipline of saying “YES!” to joy every chance we get. Even when we are forgetful. Or our skinny jeans don’t fit. Here’s a picture of joy, in case you, like me, have forgotten what it looks like. We may not remember the name of our plumber, but Pete sure is enjoying his new name: Pops. We’ll take the trade.