Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing
older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must
say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving
to straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody.
Helpful, but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom--it seems a pity not to use
it all, but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end...
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me
wings to get to the point swiftly. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are
increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help
me to endure them with patience. I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a
growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash
with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I
may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a sour old
person--some of them are so hard to live with and each one a crowning work of
the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and
talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.
So much winsome wisdom until the last paragraph. Sour old people, "each one a crowning work of the devil," really? Overstatement messes up a humble prayer. Just saying.
ReplyDeleteThanks for pointing this out. It's a stereotype that doesn't belong. Maybe it's the 17th century context. Maybe it's human exaggeration. But you're right.
ReplyDelete