Good
morning, everyone! Thank you all for coming to hear Part II of “We Bless
Children; They Bless Us.”
Now,
according to our Lay Leader, Rod Clark, I am back speaking to you by “popular
demand.” He said, and I quote, “You’re such an interesting person,
Lilly; I hear you have had knee surgery recently and I see you are using a
cane now,” suggesting, of course, that you are all keenly interested in
learning more about that! He, of course, is nowhere to be seen – “a
business trip” – or so he says!
Yes,
I did have surgery, and yes, I am using a cane now. And, since it has become
my “significant other”, I have given it a name. I call it “Harry” –
from the movie “With a Friend Like Harry.” My friends now invite Harry and
me out as a couple, and I invite them to come for a walk with Harry and me. I
believe he has earned his name. He opens screen doors for me, swats annoying
insects, retrieves dropped articles with both ends, and intimidates rude
people, cranky children, and barking dogs. I can’t imagine my life without
him now.
I
have come to realize that all of our life experiences, even the sad and
unpleasant ones, can teach us lessons we need to learn, and also to share. Rod
Clark was right about that. My recent surgical experience caused me to reflect
on aging in general, and my own in particular. And, how my children may become
a part of that process, in spite of all my efforts to spare them.
Living
alone, as I have chosen to do, for so many years, being a “senior citizen”
(a term I thoroughly dislike, except, of course, if there is a discount
involved), and being incapacitated adds up to Trouble with a capital T. Who
helps you? Who cares for you? Who stands by you?
My
daughter, Sue, had a much more realistic grasp of what my post-op course would
be than I did – her Mother, the Nurse! She never left my side, day and
night, at the hospital and at home while caring for all of my needs. I
was overwhelmed and extremely grateful for her loyal, loving, and solicitous
care and concern for me during my recovery.
Sue
also kept up by phone with her staff responsibilities at Johns Hopkins
University and her husband in Maryland. I was concerned about all the
pressures on her, which she handled so well.
And
because of those concerns, my daughter has sent me a book written by a good
friend of hers, Judy Kramer, entitled Changing Places. Judy Kramer
writes for the Washington, D.C. area Gazette newspaper. This book moved
me deeply.
It
is a factual, highly informative and insightful, both human and personal
account of her own journey through her parents’ aging and deaths. As she was
going through this period of her life, Kramer often became tired, frustrated,
and torn among her husband, her three children, her job, and the increasing
care that each and both of her parents required of her.
When
a newspaper article she wrote about those feelings created more mail than the
paper had ever received, Kramer began writing a column about this journey with
her parents into their old age. And from that collection of columns, this book
emerged.
Kramer
says in her book, “I think about the natural order of things. We are born,
we grow, we may marry, we may have children, we age, we die. And between those
things, and amidst those milestones, we live our daily lives.”
She
goes on to say, “Loving each other can be hard sometimes. We often carry a
great deal of baggage on the journey we take with our parents into their old
age! Suitcases full of old anger, childhood guilt, adult frustration,
fractured relationships, less than perfect communications. The luggage belongs
to us, to our parents, to our siblings, to our spouses, to our children –
all piled high on one vehicle lurching into unknown territory. Some families
travel lighter than others,” but, she says, “I know of no family that has
not packed for the trip.”
Kramer
says that she and her father had rarely discussed love. “Perhaps for his
gender, in his generation, love is a given – silent and unspoken.” She
goes on to say, “There is something very satisfying about
acknowledging love. It balances the anger, frustration, sadness, guilt, and
fear that have been my companions on this journey with my parents into their
old age. Like shock absorbers, love smoothes out the ride – if not the road.
A parent’s death,” she says, “is a universally intimate, personal and
private moment.”
I
remember that shortly before my own mother’s death, which I knew to be
imminent, I stood by her hospital bed, feeling as a child would, and told her
I needed to know that she loved me. A look of incredulousness and confusion
and sadness came over her face, and she said, and I’ll never forget it, “Why,
of course I do.” We had expressed our love in many ways for one another over
the years, but she had never spoken it, and I NEEDED to hear it. She died
peacefully and quietly in my arms shortly afterward. She had taught me how to
live and she had shown me how to age and how to die.
As
Christians, we do not have to fear death. We can talk about it, we can prepare
for it, and we can accept aging and dying as realistic ports of our God-given
lives. I have come to realize that it is the quality of our lives and not the
length of them that really matters.
At
the turn of the century – around 1900 – the life expectancy for women was
47 years. Today it is 77 years, which translates: We are living longer. So are
our parents. Back then there were extended family supports all under one roof;
today we have “extended care facilities”, “nursing homes”, “senior
citizen housing”, and “hospices”. In my neighborhood of 48 homes, I know
of only two who have an elderly parent living with them.
When
Judy Kramer’s parents agreed to go into a nursing home, she had even more
concerns for them. One day her father said to her, “You know, in my life I
searched a long time for a sense of community. Surprising that I should have
found it here.” Judy says, “Community is possible anywhere if you make and
take advantage of the opportunity. People need to feel that they belong.”
We
need community supports in this age of the nuclear family and this “sandwich
generation” who care for parents while also raising their children. Churches
certainly offer that support. I have been deeply moved by the kindness of this
congregation in rising to the needs of one another. We are all in this journey
of life together. We need to feel a sense of belonging to God and to one
another. From generation to generation to generation, it is as it was meant to
be. We bless children; they bless us.
I
thought of the Biblical references to our children and to ourselves. From
Proverbs 22:6: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old
he will not depart from it.” And the Fifth Commandment: “Honor your Father
and your Mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your
God gives you.” Our children watch how we treat our parents. That is what we
can expect from them.
A
dear friend of mine who is a nurse and works with the elderly has told me of
the four most frequently expressed regrets from those at the end of their
lives:
1)
For not having thanked those who had helped them in some way during their
lives;
2)
For not having spoken their love to those whom they had loved;
3)
For not having asked forgiveness from those whom they had harmed;
4)
For the missed opportunities from their own lack of courage, acceptance of
change, and fear of pursuing their goals and dreams to reach fulfillment in
their lives.
How
many of you are familiar with Barbara Sher, who is currently presenting her
philosophies on Channel 13 as part of their fundraising? She states, “You
can run out of time, just as you can of milk and sugar. When you realize that
you are NOT immortal, you do the things you were meant to do.”
Anna
Quindlen, one of my favorite authors, whose book, Black and Blue, has
just been chosen by Oprah for her book club, says, “Make time your friend.
Make friends with your fears. Listen to your own voice instead of those of
others.”
Barbara
Sher goes on to say that after you fulfill your obligations to perpetuate the
race and raise them to do the same (in your first life), you are free to live
your OWN life. (Life begins at 40.) “Your gifts, your talents, are your
second life. What you love is who you are. What makes you feel good and happy
and fulfilled.”
One
of my own favorite poets, Robert Browning, wrote:
Grow
old along with me;
The
best is yet to be –
The
last of life,
For
which the first was made.
In
summary, then, the challenge for all of us is to live our lives so that we do
not have regrets at the end of them.
1)
Thank those who have helped you along the way – families, teachers,
friends, neighbors, etc.
2)
Tell those you love that you love them.
3)
Make restitution to those you have harmed. Ask forgiveness from God and
them.
4)
Live your whole life with hope, with gratitude, and with joy (a Biblical
promise for our lives) by doing unto others, using, expressing, sharing and
enjoying your God-given talents. Teach your children how to live, grow, age,
and die by your own example.
And
now, I would like to end on a lighter note, with a feisty poem in memory of my
mother, who loved literature and poetry and who was a British Lady and a
feisty woman, who loved the color purple and always wore it.
This
poem is entitled “Warning” by Jenny Joseph:
When
I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With
a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And
I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And
satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I
shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And
gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And
run my stick along the public railings
And
make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I
shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And
pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And
learn to spit.
You
can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And
eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or
only bread and pickle for a week
And
hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But
now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And
pay our rent and not swear in the street
And
set a good example for the children.
We
must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But
maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So
people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When
suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Thank
you and Amen, from me and my friend, Harry.