It was a month of demographic extremes. I taught a class in California for mostly young people. I flew to Dallas and spoke for a woman’s conference. Finally, I visited dear old mom in her assisted living facility, called Plymouth Harbor, where she organized a concert. There, I sang for a group of elderly people. I think this may have been my favorite gig.
Each demographic has its peculiarities, its collective profile. “The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the grey head,” Proverbs 20:29. Isn’t God good? “He has made everything beautiful in His time,” Ecclesiastes 3:11. As grey hairs spring up on my head, I rejoice that God’s kingdom isn’t racist, sexist, or ageist.
Sunday, Mom and I had a beautiful evening. Since the hip replacement she gets around very well and at 84 still hasn’t lost her beauty or her grace. She picked up some sushi and edamame for supper. We left the dishes and scampered down to the beach for the sunset. A preternatural peace rested upon us; families, couples, and children with kites all felt it. Sunsets are God’s way of reminding us daily that the sun will set on our lives and we best get ready. Repent of all sin and make amends with those wronged, whisper the gilded clouds. There’s a heavenly vibe to those clouds; I’ve felt it since I was a child. If not for sunsets I’d be a much shallower person.
On the way home, mom confesses to me that she used to mutter, “That place is full of old fogies” (only she uses a different word beginning with “f”) when driving by Plymouth Harbor.
“Now I live here!” she laughs.
Mom’s confession evinces a truth. Of all the isms, ageism is the easiest to correct. We’re all on a slow march toward death. Sooner or later, “they” will be us.
But then, for some, a resurrection, a sunrise. Eternal youth. Jesus promises believers life everlasting. Mom loves to shop for me; she’s like a little girl dressing her doll, and I don’t mind a bit. But I want more than new clothes; I want a new body. I want my allergies gone. I want my stomach to feel good again. I want my voice to soar like it did when I was twenty-five. The waning of our powers begins two decades into life—how disappointing is that? We were created for so much more than this corporeal compromise. I plan on cashing in on all God has given me in His Son. How about you?
Speaking of corporeal compromise, I left my date book at mom’s. If I recall correctly, I’m home this month, participating in the Living with Hope Seminar with pastor Tara VinCross. If you’re in Philadelphia, this would be a great investment of your time. Come learn how to gain eternal youth. Check it out at http://chestnuthillsda.org/.