Today I realized I had become an old man. It wasn’t so much my age, although realizing my birthday was fast approaching had forced me to admit more years had passed than were to come. Suddenly becoming an old man wasn’t just a bad attitude, although my attitude had suddenly taken a turn towards melancholy and nostalgia that was a bit unhealthy.
No, I realized today I was an old man because for the first time in my life, when I had a free moment to let my mind wander, there were no dreams floating around on which to meditate. I looked out the window and I didn’t see Fall; I saw Winter, even though winter is months away. I looked at the lawn; it was brown. It had given up on the rain it needed. I watched folks passing by, walking their dogs. I pitied myself because my legs no longer let me walk without the disastrous certainty of stumbling and falling in embarrassment, lying there praying for the dog walkers to help me back up on my feet.
No, dreams are no longer part of the pallet I can access to put color to the canvas of my days yet to come. The sky is gray, the trees have lost their leaves, the roses are done blooming. The only color in the flower beds is the color used to dye the mulch.
This is very unexpected for a person who has read a great deal about the power and promise of hope, who thinks every life has a noble purpose. What great sentiments, what encouraging thoughts! What nonsense! I believe there really does come a point where you just stop and wait for the last breath to leave you. I’m not there yet, but it’s a thought that lingers. This thought never was my companion before this.
While I probably have another twenty five years ahead, of what use will that be to me? What can life offer me that will inspire me and cause me to regain the hope that has always been my companion? Which of my senses will come to my rescue and bring me good news? Will it be taste or touch, probably not smell nor hearing – no my best guess is that seeing will be my savior sense, if there is one to visit me at all.
What will I see that will slow my aging process? What will my vision bring into focus for me? Will it scramble the dark colors I see? Will light shine through the colorless scene that is my new found companion?
The Rest of the Story
That which is above is a conversation I had with one of my church members. He was getting older and wanted my advice. He had lost hope. Everything I said seemed insignificant as a response to his questions. It dawned on me, however, this wasn’t my problem to solve. But it was my problem to listen to, because the man siting across the room from me, wanted someone, had chosen me, as someone to listen to him. He wanted someone to hear him, to see him. He did not want to be forgotten. He did not want to be irrelevant.
He had more time to live, but no reason to live. His family had given up on him and was impatient with his slowing down. They wanted the dad they remembered from when they were 20, not the dad who was sitting in their house now, staring out the window at the falling leaves.
He didn’t respond as he used to when they brought him good news of his grand kids’ successes or when they asked him for his advice. He seemed so far away. And so, they let him drift away. When they gathered in the living room after dinner, they sat not five feet from each other, but miles apart from the love they had shared not so long ago.
So, what would you have said to this guy if he asked you for your advice and counsel? How might you comfort or console or encourage this gentle man who had lost his way? Would you have been able to give him a reason to trust in the power and promise of hope, living his remaining days with noble purpose?
That’s what keeps me going – that I might just stumble on something, even if it is just my listening, that helps my church member find some glimmer of hope, some desire to fulfill one last noble purpose in serving others. No one should feel irrelevant, without hope or purpose, a burden to those with whom they has shared their life and their love. Everyone deserves some level of care and compassion. Everyone deserves a reason to hope and someone who will journey with them on the path to hope’s promises.
Beautifully written. Painfully true.
What a wonderful surprise to see your comment. This means a great desal to me.
Powerful work.
Thank you Laura. I am gratified by your comment. Your comment means a great deal to me.
Lovely and distressing at the same time. As a volunteer at our local senior center, I find myself dealing with a housebound woman who has forgotten how to say “yes” to her life. Yet another woman I visit is all about the “yesness.” Complete opposites but a true lesson for me to grapple with as you are.
Sometimes in sorrow and despair, the fresh breeze of hope rustles the leaves.
What an honor to be the person he felt safe sharing these thoughts with! And what a burden that can be for you. May the Spirit guide you as you listen.
Thank you for your comment. From your work, you know better than I do the depths of emotions folks live with and the struggles they confront. We are in the healing business aren’t we – being a channel to the One and the Spirit that heals through our service. Thanks for reading this post.
Active listening, not just listening is a gift. It’s that gift that you continue to give to others as you’ve given to me. Keep listening.
Thanks Cliff. Active listening is a skill that needs my constant attention. In this crazy world in which we live, there are so many distractions that sometimes we all drift away whilst listening.