the way time passes

I love old people. I know some might not like that as a category, so, if you prefer: I love senior adults, elderly folks, etc. But I think it ridiculous to think of "old" as a dirty word. Today I met an 81-year-old man (not the oldest in our church by far) who proclaimed that he was old, and thankful for it. Amen, I say, to that.

How can we receive the gifts God gives--age, for example--if we do not acknowledge them? I have been steadily amused at the "young adult" Sunday School class here at the church, where the younger members are in their mid fifties. I am not saying that they ought to "admit" that they are "old," but I do wonder if calling ourselves something that we are not stops us from growing into the blessings of what we are.

Anyway, all I really wanted to say is how much I have enjoyed visiting people--at home and at the hospital. I keep saying that, because it keeps shocking me. I'm not even very good at it. I don't want to do it on many levels. But afterwards I always get the feeling that I have participated in some primal way in my (our?) raison d'être, and so (as usual) a stock phrase: "The Lord is glorious in his saints: Come let us adore him."