How about some fruit?

A couple of weekends ago, we spent some time with our newest granddaughter, who is nearly 11 months old.  Allison is happy, social, fun and friendly; she loves to be with people.  And she was no different during this visit, but because she’s more on the move, she was discontented staying in just one place.  Consequently, she would go lap-hopping, from one person to the next. This was particularly true when we went to her older sister’s basketball game.  So many laps to choose from; so many silly faces making goofy noises for her attention.  (Have you ever noticed how crazy otherwise sane adults become when they are around a baby?) Anyway, Allison was consistent--we could count on her wanting to be wherever she was not!

Some of us never grow out of that phase.  Some of us are always seeing the “grass greener on the other side” until we get to that other side.  Then, once we get there we see the “yellowed, dried patches of grass” that we didn’t notice before and it’s on to something else that’s more lush.  As a result we miss our life.  We miss the joys, variety and miracles in the ordinary, the present.  We miss the simple sacred in our surroundings and the people in our lives.  We overlook all the various shades of green in our very front yard.  Because our culture is addicted to consuming and everything is marketed, many of us just don’t get it until we are older.  And unfortunately, there are some who never get beyond the illusions created in their younger years.

One of the things I like most about the church I attend is the number of seniors.  Wisdom abounds among these octogenarians and older.  In fact, this Saturday one of our most active and lively members is celebrating her 95^th birthday!  But as with everything else in life, we must take the bitter with the sweet.  Having a congregation filled with seniors means someone is always ill or dying.

Thankfully, I have been privileged to know some very wise, humorous, and lovely elderly people.  These people have taught me that aging can be about more than aches and pains and deteriorating bodies. They have given me inspiration for how I want to be as I climb up that ladder of years.  These are people who have lived through challenging times, tremendous grief, and debilitating illnesses, yet continue to exude a lifetime of faithfulness—to their God, to their families, to their church.   Lives lived well will show some fruitfulness; we can either become ripe or rotten.  Which will I live to be?