Growing old is not for sissies

Soon I'll be 65. I've retired recently. I was pretty much forced to by my (lack of) health. Arthritis flare up, gastrointestinal stuff followed closely by stroke number five (still unknown source of blood clot). The hospital stay after the stroke was so uncomfortable that my back is now giving me enough discomfort for me to be bedridden. If I were more comfortable, I'd be delighted to be retired. So when I'm back on my feet, I will be.  My income is very small, but I'm comfortable, and I have health insurance which eats up more than my pension.

For the first time in several years, I've got two rooms, a complete kitchen and a bathroom big enough to dance in. The videos show off my paintings by my grandmother, Eric Dennard, and my son. My son stays every other weekend along with my grandson ... so delightful.

Journaling New Year

I measure my life in 20 year increments.
The third ...20 years ... was spent trying to forget the madness of the second. But nothing is more vivid than that madness.

Dear Lord, I am afraid of death as I am afraid of you.

Old friends have died, and more are yet to die. It's not that I miss being with them. When they were alive we were rarely in touch. I wonder at them falling into death. They sing "holy, holy, holy" whether they want to or not.

When are the indignities of life more painful than the indignity of death? Not yet. Not yet.

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This is the year of "when I'm sixty-four". I remember, when I was nineteen, trying to imagine it. Well now here it is. Of course it's different than I imagined.
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I get in trouble when I scold. Scolding usually turns around to bite me.
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When I was about 8 years old I used to make small worlds of fairies in the woods. I'd make tiny people out of paper, sometimes out of clothespins, and I'd set them up in little houses made of twigs, leaves, funguses, moss. I left them in different places in the woods so the lumberjacks would find them.

journaling

1.
I've been drifting away from the mirror
forgetting denying escaping the image of who I have been
who I am ...
instead i have been nobody and doing nothing

Dear God, you know me. I call out to you. Take me to the mirror. Shelter me, soothe me, but open my eyes, Dear Revealer.

2.
Here I am elderly
and eager to get older
and qualify for Medicare.
I'll quit my job and write
and read and watch movies.
I'll rescue a dog
and walk her for exercise,
up and down those stairs.
My grandmother was fat at my age
like me - though she wore a girdle, used no cane.
I think she was sharper mentally
She didn't have a job, but she did volunteer work

Dear God, my Grandmother taught me about you. May you bless her soul.
all the souls who showed me You. Thank you.

3.
Men. All so imperfect. Cruelly thoughtless. Liars. Pompous and vain. Foolish. But I am proud to have
loved the worthwhile and useful parts of them.

Dear God, help me to be patient with men.

I want to pray

First a prayer of profound gratitude for the people in my new church. Tonight was when the "praise band" practices. I hauled my guitar and played around with tunings. I haven't played in such a long time, and haven't had so much fun playing for an even longer time. There were a few young children running around and full of laughter. We shushed them when they got too distracting and they would shush. There were four of us playing and a patient husband and a patient mother waiting. I realize that besides the joy of making music I was experiencing patience, simplicity, and security. So I want to pray my gratitude.

I also want to pray, yet again, "I believe. Please help me with my unbelief." I'll be sixty in a few days. I am realizing that I most probably will not be alive in thirty years. None of my future years can be taken for granted. Am I ready for whatever lies beyond this life? Am I truly living my present life?