_______________________________________________So Lynda, a similar experience. Several years ago when my 2 oldest grandsons were about 4 and 6 years old, they were having a day out with “Grandy,” their name for me. At a point the younger one, Josh, turns to me and says, “Grandy, you sure are big. You eat too much.” The older one, Devin, sensing this was not an entirely appropriate thing for Josh to have said to his grandfather, retorts. “Josh, he doesn’t eat too much, he’s just old.” What a great illustration this would have been in the Christ lecture for the moment grace strikes. Josh and Devin are now 23 and 25 year old men, but I’m still their Grandy.RandyIt’s like the joy of a Senior Discount! I taught VBS this summer to a class of 4 year olds, with the able assistance of Lyndon, our 14 year old granddaughter (Jono’s). One little boy, out of the blue, said, “you are really old, aren’t you?” I smiled and told him he was correct, but I felt really young at heart being with such a smart class.
Lynda (78)
From: OE <oe-bounces@lists.wedgeblade.net> on behalf of OE List <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net>
Reply-To: OE List <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net>
Date: Thursday, July 5, 2018 at 12:37 AM
To: OE List <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net>
Cc: Paul Schrijnen <pschrijnen@aol.com>
Subject: Re: [Oe List ...] Earthrise @ 79
A fine reflection John. Thank you.
What has begun to happen to me is that people on the London Underground have started to offer me a seat. As someone born 16 years after you, you can imagine the range of feelings that such civility causes. But when this happens on the way home from the airport after delivering a 5-day programme I am just grateful - glad to get of my feet and rest my weary bones….
Best wishes to you and all,
Paul
Paul Schrijnen
13 Bloemfontein Avenue
London W12 7BJ
paul.schrijnen@gmail.com
+44 7973 206 766
skype: paulus.schrijnen
On 4 Jul 2018, at 22:47, John Epps via OE <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:
Earthrise @ 79
Recently we were returning from a trip to Kansas and stopped for lunch at Denny’s in Limon, Colorado. We’d been watching storm clouds gathering on the horizon and were hoping to make it home before they hit. As we were leaving, I held the door for an obviously elderly couple – both were white-haired, somewhat bent-over, and he had a cane. Walking was a chore and pushing open the door would have taxed their capacities. They could obviously use some help, so I pushed open the door and held it as they struggled through. Then they uttered the words that still jar me: “Thank you, sir.” “Sir?” Coming from them? I was taught to use that term to refer to those older than I. That statement occasioned an interior rainstorm of reflections, including lots of wind, rain, and some hail.
Looking back over the last month, I’ve had more “sirs” thrown at me than at my senior year at The Citadel. There it was earned, deserved, and welcomed. Here it’s a surprising address heralding the onset of elder-ness that I didn’t think I had earned (yet) or deserved, and certainly not welcomed. There are plenty of signs, from the number of medications it takes to keep going to the diminishing energy and frequent naps. But I have ignored those as simply the afflictions of a young man with something gone wrong (to use a phrase from JWM).
Reality will not be denied. It breaks through our facades.
This time it drove me to look at a work I’d heard about but never examined: “On Holy Living and Dying” by Jeremy Taylor published in 1839 (a century before my birth). I turned quickly to the section on Holy Dying. Here’s an excerpt. “A person is a bubble…all the world is a storm, and people rise up in their several generations…like bubbles descending from nature and Providence; and some of these instantly sink into the deluge of their first parent, and are hidden in a sheet of water, having had no other business in the world but to be born, that they may be able to die: others float up and down two or three turns, and suddenly disappear, and give their place to others: and those that live longest in the face of the waters, are in perpetual motion, restless and uneasy; and being crushed with the great drop of a cloud, sink into flatness and a froth; the change not being great, it being hardly possible it should be more a nothing than it was before. So is everyone….”
This goes on for 10 pages with powerful images and the same message about our relative insignificance in the cosmic scheme of things. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I found this strangely comforting, and not unsettling as one might assume. You just never know where wonder will break through, but when it does, it’s well worth celebrating.
John Epps
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