the beauty of aging
Today was another day of contrast, though of a different type. I spent a good part of the day with a 12-year-old girl who is in the program I coordinate. If I were given a choice of what child in the program to spend time with, she would probably be the last one I would choose ... I'm guessing this is exactly why God put us together for several hours today.This girl is everything I was not as child - chubby, clingy, loud, giggly, boy-crazy, and really just kind of draining to be around. I feel terrible saying all of that, but honestly - it's true. She is the client I dread going to visit - for several reasons ... one is because I can count on her grabbing all over me as soon as I see her, and the other is because of the men that are usually hanging out front or in the porch inside. They chew their tobacco and look me up and down and just cause me to feel really uncomfortable.
Anyway, I picked this girl up today because we were going to go take a birthday cake to her mentor as a surprise. But her mentor wasn't home. So we ended up going out for lunch and also to the park and just walking and talking. And I began to see why this girl is the way she is. About an hour into our time together, she was telling me repeatedly that she loved me, and hugging me and tickling me and just being pretty weird. My impulse was to pull away or even slap her hand, but then I looked in her eyes and there I saw an aching to hear someone tell her that SHE loves her. So I did. And, though I didn't tickle her or poke her or hold onto her waist, I did give her a big hug and tell her that she is full of beauty and that she is absolutely precious to God. She completely changed. She looked happy and her eyes didn't look so hungry for attention or confirmation anymore. She walked beside me and was able to do so without holding on to me. She was like a different person, and it was all because she knew that she was loved.
Later on in the day I went to visit friends of mine in a rest home. When I arrived, the husband was sleeping (and I think he is the loudest snorer I've ever heard!) but the wife was laying in bed and looking toward the window. She was crying softly and saying words that I couldn't understand. I stood beside her bed and took her hand, and as she looked in my eyes I saw the same look I had seen earlier in the eyes of someone 70 years younger. I kissed her on her head and told her that I loved her, and her moans and shouts subsided as a quiet peace came over her. We sat in silence and looked out the window as the sun softly went down and the sky grew dark. She squeezed my hand and I couldn't help but reflect on the day's events.
This world is full of so many different kinds of people. Some are loud and clingy, and some are quiet and reclusive. There are some people who you try to avoid, and others who you can't get enough of. I had spent time that day with both types, and at first thought they seem so incredibly different. But really, in each of those women (both young and old), I saw a commonality ... a desperate desire to be loved, and to be told that they were beautiful. I hope and pray that with time, the grating young girl from the day will become more like the peaceful sweet elderly lady of the evening, but I am not sure of the likelihood of that happening.
I had to pull myself away from that rest home today, for I get the definite feeling lately that my time with my friends there is drawing to a close. Tonight, as I prayed with my friend and grasped her frail hand in mine, there was a moment when my heart sensed that she had left me. Her breathing and paused and all of a sudden her grip loosened. I opened my eyes and saw her piercing blue eyes gazing at mine, and I spoke her name, and she responded with a smile. I knew she was still there, but I have a feeling her heart is ready to leave. I can't blame her. Tonight I reminded her of the full life she has lived, and I apologized to her that she is where she is now ... through it all she stroked my hand and smiled that haunting smile.
I wonder what she was like as a little girl, and if she tickled people and clung to near-strangers as she offered her love a little too freely. I have a feeling she didn't. Sometimes when I look at her, I see the mischief in her eyes and the playfulness of her smile, and I catch a glimpse of a precious little girl. But mostly I see a woman made beautiful by a life lived well. I know very little about the details of her life, but I sense very much by the power of her spirit. Her beauty inside shines through her, and I know that beauty has been growing steadily through the many years of life. She gives me something to strive for. As I walked out of the home tonight and tearfully considered the frail woman lying in that bed, I realized that no diet or workout or beauty regimen will ultimately matter in the end ... beauty is so much bigger than any of those things. It's about grace and mercy and kindess and softness and sweetness and love and wrinkles and saggy skin and thinning hair.
I'm not sure how to end this, but I really think that maybe it is just the beginning of something for me.
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