“Live long enough and the people you love get old.” (Lori McKenna)

The song with those words was playing in my head as I sat in the nursing home and listened to my ninety-one year old Dad say for perhaps the one hundred and fifty-sixth time, “If I could just get out of the bed by myself, stand up and walk, things would be so much easier. Of course, if I could do that I’d walk right out of here. (pause for chuckle) But, if you can’t be home, this is not a bad place to be. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for.” It’s a safe bet that in a couple of days, when I make my regular Sunday afternoon call we will hit one hundred and fifty-seven.

Of course he’s not the only one getting old. The other day I was looking at Jim the Grey in the mirror and it occurred to me that I am a senior citizen in every measurable way, excluding maturity. Not sure how or when that happened. It seems like I was a young man forever but I only got to be a regular adult for about three weeks.

When you officially reach the fall season in life it is hard to get your mind around how much time has gone by since that fellow in the nursing home was a twenty-five year old smoking a cigarette in the waiting room when he heard, “Congratulations Mr. Hunter, it’s a boy.”

Sometimes I lie in bed at night and think, “For crying out loud, my daughters are older than I feel.” Maybe I should stop thinking of them as seventeen year olds. But as I often say, “I’m not complaining. I’m just noticing.” (Actually, I have no memory of ever saying that but I like it so I’m going to start often saying it.)

All the graying and lack of body cooperation aside, one of the unexpected discoveries of this season is that, if one is so inclined, growth in spirit continues. Sometimes it feels as if it has even accelerated. It’s almost embarrassing.

I mean you’d think that after committing to team Christ in 1971, earning a couple or three degrees, being an ordained minister for thirty- bunch years, and qualifying for Medicare a fellow would feel like more than an apprentice in life. Yet every day creation shares a new secret, sacred words bring new insight, life is found in community, justice feels more urgent, prayer is more intimate, and the Christ in everyone becomes a little clearer.

On days that I want to try imagining the unimaginable I give listening to the younger folks a whirl. I try to imagine what they are seeing from their spot on the continuum of life and I wonder what they will be seeing, feeling, thinking many years from now when they are lying in their beds thinking, “For crying out loud…” I certainly hope that the young ones in my life will be realizing, as I presently am, that “life-long learner” isn’t just a cliché.

Like I said, sometimes it’s a little embarrassing. Seems like I should have gotten some of this stuff earlier. I should have taken a lot of stuff more seriously, a lot of stuff less seriously. I guess I’m a late bloomer.