Do you get weary of the continual, almost unrelenting emphasis on and attention to external appearances? I know I do.
I learned recently that one of the little girls from China who "sang" during opening ceremonies of the summer Olympics was actually lip-syncing the voice of another young girl. The girl who sang was not considered "cute enough" to appear in public, so a surrogate was recruited to stand in and pretend to sing. The "cute factor" seldom gets us anywhere of much value or substance.
Here's a motto for life that my wife handed me not long ago:
Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, latte in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!"
While I expect my doctor would cringe a bit and while I recognize that this adage doesn't tell it all, I love the spirit of these words! How about you?
I think I might add something like this: "totally worn out, completely broke from investing in life and in people. . . ."
Got any mottoes for life that would be encouraging to others inside and outside your community? Let's hear them.
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Showing posts with label stages of life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stages of life. Show all posts
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Considering the circumstances of my demise
No one who believes in life can choose the details of his or her ending.
My parents continue to teach me about the tough reality of growing old. Movement to life's end can be halting, harsh, humbling, humorous and, at times, horrible.
So, I find myself working on a check list of hopes relative to the conclusion of my own journey. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1) I hope I live fully until the last minute, sixty seconds after which I long to fall over dead and gone. Then, let the party begin! I am currently working on a list of friends who will be invited to tell jokes on me at my funeral, that is, if they can rise from their own wheelchairs.
2) I hope to be delivered from long stints in unfamiliar and dangerous hospital beds where the floors around are always too slick for common sense, weak legs and distended bladders. I suppose bugs in the rugs are more of a threat than broken bones on the linoleum.
3) I hope never to be "delivered" to any "skilled nursing center"--since I now know that is simply code for "nursing home."
4) I hope never to be "roomies" with anyone who doesn't remember his name or who insists on singing off key all night long.
5) I hope when someone says to me with a stupid grin, "Well, I bet you have seen lots of changes," that I have the good sense to say, "Well, not nearly enough!"
6) I hope I never need a pill box to keep all the meds straight, morning and night, that I can't keep up with in my head.
7) I hope, if I have to have doctors, that they will have the good sense to talk to one another, at least occasionally.
8) I hope I never end up on some chaplain's list for "rounds" and prayers that I haven't asked for. Why does that line, "May I say a prayer for you?" always make me angry?
9) I hope my running buddy, Dan and my development partner, John and my long-time friends, Edd and Randy, as well as others I won't list here, come by to see me just because they want to and not because they feel obligated. I also hope they sneak in hamburgers and milk shakes!
10) I hope I get sweeter and softer--however, I fear I'm already headed in the opposite direction!
11) I hope I'll be able to communicate to my children, grandchildren and, if I live long enough, great grandchildren just how much I love them in a manner that will make them laugh and understand deeply without feeling any embarrassment.
12) I hope I remember my name, at least every now and again.
13) I hope I'll keep up with technology so that whatever is coming after my laptop will be something I use daily. I hope I can think clearly enough to write something or someone every day.
14) I hope I still read the box scores during baseball season. I hope I can get out to a game or two or 10 every year.
15) I hope that I die before I leave the battle I most believe in.
16) I hope, even if I am forced to sit down, that I never give up.
17) I hope I don't outlive those I love the most.
I'll keep working on this list. You got one?
.
My parents continue to teach me about the tough reality of growing old. Movement to life's end can be halting, harsh, humbling, humorous and, at times, horrible.
So, I find myself working on a check list of hopes relative to the conclusion of my own journey. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1) I hope I live fully until the last minute, sixty seconds after which I long to fall over dead and gone. Then, let the party begin! I am currently working on a list of friends who will be invited to tell jokes on me at my funeral, that is, if they can rise from their own wheelchairs.
2) I hope to be delivered from long stints in unfamiliar and dangerous hospital beds where the floors around are always too slick for common sense, weak legs and distended bladders. I suppose bugs in the rugs are more of a threat than broken bones on the linoleum.
3) I hope never to be "delivered" to any "skilled nursing center"--since I now know that is simply code for "nursing home."
4) I hope never to be "roomies" with anyone who doesn't remember his name or who insists on singing off key all night long.
5) I hope when someone says to me with a stupid grin, "Well, I bet you have seen lots of changes," that I have the good sense to say, "Well, not nearly enough!"
6) I hope I never need a pill box to keep all the meds straight, morning and night, that I can't keep up with in my head.
7) I hope, if I have to have doctors, that they will have the good sense to talk to one another, at least occasionally.
8) I hope I never end up on some chaplain's list for "rounds" and prayers that I haven't asked for. Why does that line, "May I say a prayer for you?" always make me angry?
9) I hope my running buddy, Dan and my development partner, John and my long-time friends, Edd and Randy, as well as others I won't list here, come by to see me just because they want to and not because they feel obligated. I also hope they sneak in hamburgers and milk shakes!
10) I hope I get sweeter and softer--however, I fear I'm already headed in the opposite direction!
11) I hope I'll be able to communicate to my children, grandchildren and, if I live long enough, great grandchildren just how much I love them in a manner that will make them laugh and understand deeply without feeling any embarrassment.
12) I hope I remember my name, at least every now and again.
13) I hope I'll keep up with technology so that whatever is coming after my laptop will be something I use daily. I hope I can think clearly enough to write something or someone every day.
14) I hope I still read the box scores during baseball season. I hope I can get out to a game or two or 10 every year.
15) I hope that I die before I leave the battle I most believe in.
16) I hope, even if I am forced to sit down, that I never give up.
17) I hope I don't outlive those I love the most.
I'll keep working on this list. You got one?
.
Monday, October 01, 2007
The circle of life
Saturday morning, as I was removing my mother's wheelchair from the trunk of her car, my phone rang. Brenda was calling to tell me I need to talk to Owen, our 16-month-old grandson. Owen was in the barber's chair for his first real haircut and he didn't like the experience much.
"Talk to him, maybe it will help take his mind off of the scissors," Brenda suggested.
So, here I am in the parking lot of the skilled nursing center, where my dad is recovering from two surgeries, about to wheel my mother inside to see him, talking to little Owen, who I know was trying to figure out what I was trying to do! I'm told he smiled, but returned quickly to do battle with the barber!
When we entered the nursing center, we found my dad in the dining room waiting for his lunch. He was seated at a table with two other gentlemen. All three were in wheelchairs. My mom pulled up to the table to make it four.
I watched as my parents greeted one another. My dad was so glad to see her, and vice versa. They will celebrate 68 years in November. Hard to believe. And, they are still in love!
Later that afternoon, after bringing my mother home, I rushed off to a soccer game.
I don't even understand the rules to soccer. But that didn't matter for this game for two reasons. First, none of the 3-year-old boys playing understand them either. And, most importantly, I was there to see my oldest grandson, Wyatt and not just the game.
Wyatt loves to play. Doesn't like it when he has to "take a break." He has more fun playing with his buddies. I have even more fun watching him! I am thinking that he has a bit of linebacker in him! I don't think that is a position in soccer.
Of course, Gracie, our 5-year-old grandaughter is there to watch her little brother play. It is fun watching her cheer him on. And, it's fun playing with her on the sidelines!
Reflecting on the day, I got in touch again with the circle of life--beginning, middle and last. I'm somewhere in the middle these days, watching parents and grandchildren experience this part of their lives. It is a curious position. I don't understand it all, but I'm open.
It occurs to me that this is not an easy time. It is certainly not easy for my parents. I expect it is challenging for my own children, as they watch their little ones getting started.
It hit me how hard, how very difficult it must be to make it all the way around the circle without resources. The circle is so much harder, so much more difficult for people and families who have few material resources. For sure, they compensate with what they have in terms of human, community and relational capital.
But, it is very clear to me today that it must be really tough making things work if you have little income. And, that is true no matter where you find yourself on life's ever-turning circle.
"Talk to him, maybe it will help take his mind off of the scissors," Brenda suggested.
So, here I am in the parking lot of the skilled nursing center, where my dad is recovering from two surgeries, about to wheel my mother inside to see him, talking to little Owen, who I know was trying to figure out what I was trying to do! I'm told he smiled, but returned quickly to do battle with the barber!
When we entered the nursing center, we found my dad in the dining room waiting for his lunch. He was seated at a table with two other gentlemen. All three were in wheelchairs. My mom pulled up to the table to make it four.
I watched as my parents greeted one another. My dad was so glad to see her, and vice versa. They will celebrate 68 years in November. Hard to believe. And, they are still in love!
Later that afternoon, after bringing my mother home, I rushed off to a soccer game.
I don't even understand the rules to soccer. But that didn't matter for this game for two reasons. First, none of the 3-year-old boys playing understand them either. And, most importantly, I was there to see my oldest grandson, Wyatt and not just the game.
Wyatt loves to play. Doesn't like it when he has to "take a break." He has more fun playing with his buddies. I have even more fun watching him! I am thinking that he has a bit of linebacker in him! I don't think that is a position in soccer.
Of course, Gracie, our 5-year-old grandaughter is there to watch her little brother play. It is fun watching her cheer him on. And, it's fun playing with her on the sidelines!
Reflecting on the day, I got in touch again with the circle of life--beginning, middle and last. I'm somewhere in the middle these days, watching parents and grandchildren experience this part of their lives. It is a curious position. I don't understand it all, but I'm open.
It occurs to me that this is not an easy time. It is certainly not easy for my parents. I expect it is challenging for my own children, as they watch their little ones getting started.
It hit me how hard, how very difficult it must be to make it all the way around the circle without resources. The circle is so much harder, so much more difficult for people and families who have few material resources. For sure, they compensate with what they have in terms of human, community and relational capital.
But, it is very clear to me today that it must be really tough making things work if you have little income. And, that is true no matter where you find yourself on life's ever-turning circle.
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