On his 87th birthday in 1887, the eminent historian/diplomat, George Bancroft, received a verse from Robert Browning that included the line: “Moves slowlier than the heart’s desire.” Perhaps only those who have grown old can catch the nuances of the line and new word, slowlier. When we are young, one of the features we miss in our concepts about aging is that it takes miracles to change the invisible inside the heart and mind of healthy elders. Healthy is a key word, especially mental health. In stages, the body grows frail. That is not really ill health – no more than a baby who can’t yet stand on his legs is in ill health. Bodily decline is as sure and proper as the ripening of fruit. The old body is unable to do or endure what it once was competent to accept, but the mind may be at its full, full of experience, observation, wisdom, and memories – preferably for the good and loved. Inside themselves elders may feel more alive than they have ever been, but they must be patient with friends and family who patronize them as though they are in a second childhood – which physically they may be. The condescending speech directed to elders is the baby talk given to ol’ folks. To escape it, many elders fall into silence and rest matters there. They aren’t sad; they are just condescending back. They have a knack for knowing when no one is listening. Influence wanes. Talk becomes just static – sounds signifying almost nothing.
It must be acknowledged that there are many old grouches, difficult persons unable to accept the care provided them – angry, difficult to please, selfish, even greedy. But that didn’t happen because they have grown old. Persons are, when old, what they were when young – perhaps more so. One meets many young persons who are going to be difficult for care givers when age advances – if they make it to the slopes. Young folks are ol’ folks in the making.
Psalm 71 is the song of an old man, King David. What did he want at life’s end? He recites his aspirations and concerns in the most excellent poetry one might imagine for expressing the longing of godly persons approaching the end of the earthly sojourn. He begins with two fears – the concern about salvation and about being forsaken. “Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone.” (v. 9) David follows with two desires – to continue to be spiritually relevant and to believe he is still contributing. Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come. (v.18) He closes with two beliefs in his spiritual hope – a belief that God keeps his promises and that the grave will yield up its dead – in resurrection. Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. (v.20) That context with hoped-for and promising concepts carries over into our era.
Elders are driven to deal with the most important matters of life. They finally focus on hope – a noun. The life of Christian hope is living in the awareness that eternal life is a present possession – banked for believers awaiting simply the expiration of the final human breath for promised life award. Christian hope is not wishing. It is embracing the future immortality in the present. Hope will be complete. It is currently held in sample. However, that sample provides a pleasant savor of things to come. The elders wonder what they can do to challenge the younger generation to face and conquer any downhill experiences of aging. There are aches and pains, loss of acuities, some mental faltering, and relegation to neutral contexts. It’s all worth the wait, if the young will benefit from what has gone before, so to do better than we. *Mark W. Lee, Sr. — 2016, 2020