AGING WITH GRACE

As I bump into things with my shopping cart at the grocery store, I turn to people around me and say, “Grace is my middle name.” I can remember as a girl when boys would line up to dance with me during dance contests because I was always one of the winners. I did fine as long as the music was playing. Once it stopped I tripped over my own feet on my way to sit down. As I age, I am reminded of the old Mary Tyler Moore TV series where Dick Van Dyke would trip over a hassock on a regular basis. Prat falls are within my expertise. They aren't intentional. Once or twice a year I find the irregularity in pavement and am down for the count, usually landing on my nose. If life had a theme song, mine would be a chorus: “She flies through the air with the greatest of ease”. Just last weekend I gained a fat lip from an encounter with a curb as I crossed a street. Since I was in downtown Princeton at the time, I walked to a local ice cream shop and got a chocolate sugar cone. Apply cold to swelling,,,right? Ice cream therapy eases such things, and also helps to compensate for the embarrassment of having a small crowd form around me as I was lying by the curb.

I'm dodging cataract surgery. As the light dims in my little world, I look better to myself in the mirror. For that matter, everyone looks better. I don't see little flaws as easily. The only problem with that is I don't see clearly enough to know when I need to clean out the refrigerator, or when there are spots on the bathroom tile from washing my hair after I color it. I have solved that problem now. A housekeeper comes in once a week! I know! I know! Eventually I will have to have the surgery, but at least when I do, I will see a sweetly spotless home. As lovely Rachel pulled apart my refrigerator yesterday and scrubbed it, I marveled that she bends and twists so easily. I couldn't make those moves even if my eyes worked properly.

Since I signed up for housekeeping, I thought I might as well go the whole route so I signed up for a noontime meal in the dining room where I live in senior housing. I get to go out to eat without going out! Rachel's husband Abby is the server. He's as warm and caring as Rachel is. I feel like a well loved mother with loving adult children. When we surround ourselves with caring adults, growing old feels like being five years old. We can do all sorts of things and can learn anything, but we don't have provide for ourselves or do the chores other than washing a few dishes or taking out the trash. All that is required of me is to swallow my pride and say “Please!” and “Thank you!”

The grace that comes with aging, is in those people around me who care enough to lift me up from the curb, clean my home and serve me dinner. I just have to show up. Put on some music, and move the hassock. I can do this thing!