Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be,

the last of life for which the first was made.

I recently picked up a book called If I Live to be 100 by Neenah Ellis. She wrote about interviews she conducted for a 1999 NPR radio documentary with a couple of dozen people who had reached the age of 100, or more. Men and women, but mostly women. A couple of couples who had reached this age together – married for, like, 80 years!! An Afro American woman. One life-long lesbian.  Some were Christian, most were not. An itinerant preacher.

None mentioned what research tells us are the probable reasons for longevity of life – genes, breathing clean air, natural foods diet, not smoking, healthy weight, exercise. Other than the 103 year old woman who rowed a boat every morning (!),  none of these were even mentioned. Instead, what resonated throughout the book were three things. Relationships, learning and connection to a greater cause.

All seemed to be thrilled to just be alive.  All seemed tired of the relentless media attention they were getting during that turn of the century hype.  Most seemed surrounded by loved ones who cared very deeply for them. And most, tried to take care of others in whatever way their physical body would allow.

I found, at the end of the book, a longing for some tactics. Some clear direction on how to grow old gracefully. After some thought about this, I realized that what these people did day-to-day is the tactic - growing old gracefully is the tactic. Grow and Grace. To constantly be growing mentally, spiritually, and in relationships. And to show the kind of grace – acceptance, forgiveness, support – to others as you would want them to show to you. These interviewees – probably some of them having died by now – seemed to understand that ‘tactic’ in an unspoken, well-of-course, way. That’s because they were living it. I’d like to try that out sometime!!

I included some of their comments below that I thought say so much…enjoy!

You know what I think prolongs life? Art and music. Beyond that, it is to have a heart full of love. That is the most important thing. ~ H.S., age 100

You don’t live in the past, you live in the present. ~A.G., age 100

I’ve been alone for thirty years. I hadda go on. I hadda take care of myself. I knew I hadda be healthy and not get sick because there was nobody to care for me. I just made it, thank goodness. ~A.W., age 102

Don’t sit. Get going. Move. Have an incentive. Don’t keep thinking ‘I’m old.’ Get it out of your system. Keep going! I don’t stay put. That’s it. ~A.W., age 102

I wasn’t really aware of my life until I was eighty. R.E., age 100

I guess I am an optimist. I always think that the best is ahead.  H.B., age 101

Sex isn’t the same as you would have when you are eighteen. It’s restricted considerably. But I enjoy having his arms around me just as much as I did when I was first married. You never get tired of that, and you miss it when you don’t have it. H.B., age 101

The chief joy of the future is that it stretches ahead filled with things to do. H.B., age 101

It’s more important to remember the kindness of people. It means something to do good. It does. It means something. L.H., age 102

I stumbled across this little poem this weekend, so I thought I would post it before dashing off to work…if you look and listen, you’ll find God everywhere. Hope you enjoy!

This is my Father’s world; He shines in all that’s fair.  In the rustling grass I hear him pass; He speaks to me everywhere.

Maltbie D.  Babcock  

I passed another milestone in life – my daughter got married last Saturday. What an incredible wedding – an incredible four day celebration in the Big Apple! Two things jump out at me – now a week later. Two emotions welled up in my heart then, and both still stick.

First, love is grand. Really grand. I sat just a couple feet away from where the nuptials took place. Just a few inches from my little girl, now a woman. I heard her giggle when he tried to gingerly slip her ring on her finger. I heard her literally gasp when he said ‘I will’. But even past the sounds of delight, she looked amazing. But it was more than the dress and the hair and the veil and the ever-so-perfect earrings. It was her eyes. They literally danced. She is in love, and the emotion overtook her whole body. When they kissed, it was short, but then they gave each other a couple more little pecks, and giggled and smiled. They were busting out at the seams with the sheer joy of it all. Love is grand. It was grand that night, and the aura still hangs in the air.

The second thing – friendships are an obvious accessory in their lives. Not the at-work friendships that often come and go depending on your position or job or company. The friendships that endure - a move across the city or across the country; years of time; funerals of loved ones; job failures and successes; buying homes; having kids; living in New York City on 9/11. In the wedding party, but more so on the dance floor that night, I saw friends who truly, truly cared for each other. They could not get enough of the celebration. They could not get enough of the joy and the magic of the moment. The love of these friends looked, and is, priceless to all who shared in the experience.

Love and Friends. I was humbled and honored and overjoyed to have witnessed this slice of my daughter’s life. I was proud and happy and tearful and amazed and, most often, thankful.

She is happy.

And she is loved.

What more could a mom wish or pray for.  

I have two favorite vacation spots. The first is the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The second is Sedona, Arizona.

Two very different places. One by the ocean. One in the middle of the desert.

One with nowhere to go but to sit on the sand, gazing at the same endless, unceasing ocean as the moon moves the tides in and out each day.

The other with unending hiking and ever-changing vistas of red rock formations as the sun moves across their surfaces each day.

But I love both places for the same reasons.

Both are created by God for no other reason than for us.

Both are endless. Constant. Everlasting. Stable, yet ever-changing.

Both do something to me from the inside out. In some way these places move my soul. Just being there. My whole psyche seems to open up and expand. I see, and sense, the very presence of God. 

My thinking becomes calmer, quieter. I don’t get life-changing insights as much as I get a fresh, new perspective. It’s as if I want to mirror what I am witnessing. I want to be stable, constant, yet ever-changing.  And at peace with who I am. 

Connecting with God happens there. It sometimes happens in other places. But it always happens by the ocean in North Carolina and in the Red Rocks of Arizona.

Where do you connect with God?

I just got back from my third year attending a conference in Atlanta called Catalyst. Target age of the audience is considerably younger (Ok, half my age!), but content is relevant and edgy and applicable to any person who wants to impact the world for God! But something pretty incredible happened to me this year. Something totally unexpected.

The first year, I went to learn new facts, figures, translations, data, song titles, song words, URLs. All kinds of things. I was not disappointed. I came back loaded with lots of ’stuff’! 

The second year I went to hear new perspectives. To see what new voices popped up to inspire and challenge my thinking. I was not disappointed. I was introduced to two very exciting speakers - Francis Chan and Craig Groeschel – who I have listened to on podcasts and read their books and blogs since last year - and been re-inspired by their devotion to growth and change and wanting to become more like Jesus. 

This third year I attended for no reason at all except to get away. I had no pre-conceived notions, no expectations, nothing. I was spiritually empty and emotionally drained after a year that included the death of my sister, and the stress of a huge downsizing at my company. I was not disappointed. I came back re-energized, filled up, replenished.  But not because of anything particular that a speaker said, a song that was played, or someone I met.

When I got to the Conference, I felt numb. A little ‘off’ – no make that a lot ‘off’. I just couldn’t get my head un-fogged. Over this past year, I struggled trying to change my sadness to gladness, my fear to faith, my emptiness to fullness. I was doing it all – prayer, fasting, serving, reading, blogging, exercising and more prayer. (Ok, so I really wasn’t exercising much!).  I had gone to the depths, emptied it all out, but it didn’t fill back up.  I thought I was re-filling. I thought all that action was going to revive me. I was wrong!

As the conference started, things changed. Maybe it was the 12,000 people singing in unison to a God who I couldn’t find. Or maybe it was the speaker who asked us – me – if I was still connected to God. Or maybe it was the kids’ choir from Africa who sang not to us, but directly to Jesus. Or maybe it was just being in a room full of people devoted to a God who loves them – who loves me – more than we can ever fathom. Who knows what it was. But it was.

Somehow, my soul re-engaged. I believe when we get to a place like this that we can never heal, never get back to that joy-place, we need to just give up - surrender. Throw your hands up, wave the white flag ’cause you just ain’t gonna win this one! I didn’t know it at the time, but my goal-less, unfocused, non-engagement attendance at the Catalyst Conference was that surrender.

I needed to stop ‘doing’. I needed to just rest. Rest. Rest. Rest in the arms of a God who loves me. Rest in a God who forgives me for trying to ‘come back’ without his help. You see, what I learned through this (and will continue to learn, I am sure!) is that all that action didn’t mean I was connecting. They were MY actions, MY timing, MY words, MY tears, MY power. I asked him for all of it – strength, power, peace – but got nothing cause my arms for so full of the pain and the ‘stuff’. Surrender is two-way. I give it up. God takes it on. (Note what action comes first!) For months I’ve been telling him ‘God, I got this load of hurt. God, I am in pain. God, this sucks!’ I would weep and cry! But I never handed it over. Not really. I held onto the pain and the emptiness like it was a precious diamond. 

As the music from the incredible band fired up this week and they started singing ‘Glorious One’, He got me. I just stood very still and I knew.  “I cannot do this on my own! I need You, God!” All MY efforts would never be enough. I finally knew.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.  ~ Jesus, Matthew 11.28-30 The Message

‘Old age is no place for sissies.’ ~Bette Davis

Nothing could have prepared me for growing old. Oh, not me. My parents. For most of my half century of life, they seemed to be so young and vibrant. I would look at other senior citizens, and note that my parents just didn’t look that old. Can’t say that anymore. Now in their mid-80’s, they look it – all of a sudden.

I have always been in awe of what they, in their 80-plus years, have weathered so gracefully, so quietly. He survived World War II after enlisting at 17. She survived a biting depression-era poverty as the youngest daughter in a widowed family of seven. All 4 of their kids were born while living in a 2-bedroom house with her mom (his mother-in-law – can you imagine!?). They endured with grace and dignity, their oldest daughter’s teenage pregnancy, two of their kids surviving cancer, and broken marriages for three of them. His early retirement. Her loss of a business. The death of most of their own siblings. And most recently, the death of their oldest daughter, my sister, to a cancer that she couldn’t survive, that took her life in less than a year.

It’s that last one - that last blow - that I think has caught them unaware. It has taken the sparkle from my dad’s eye, the hope from my mom’s conversations. Yet they so epitomize the Greatest Generation that Tom Brokaw wrote about. Stiff upper lip. Chin up. No crying. We’ll get through this.

I witness strength, and grace, and dignity when I spend time with them.

But I also witness entitlement, mean spirited comments and anger targeted at me - taking their grief out on me - particularly, my mom. But I am not sure they know how to do it differently. Unaware of the misplacement of the emotion, they struggle each day just to hold it together.

The sadness and grief. The loss. The aging.

They are not sissies. Bette Davis was right. They stand proud and strong, even if only on the outside. Cause that’s just what that generation does. And they do it well.  

Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were comedians on Saturday Night Live (Tina left the show a couple of years to be on 30 Rock, and Amy leaves this season to have a baby.) Amy has long ‘played’ Hilary Clinton in comedy spoofs on the show. Tina, recently, created a spoof on Sarah Pullen, which was very funny, no matter what your political leanings. Both just rip the women they are spoofing to shreds, providing some rare brilliance to a show, in my opinion, that has lacked edginess (or maybe my sense of humor is just too mature?) since the Belushi-Akroyd years.

It’s fascinating to watch a comedian “become” someone who you recognize, unlike actors who portray fictitious characters. There is something about being able to recognize the familiar and laugh at the physical and verbal nuances that you may never have noticed until the comedian brings them to life.

But beyond that, a comedy show like SNL is a reflection of what’s happening in the world. After 9/11, the show’s humor took a softer side, taking a hands-off approach to politics and politicians. It had to in order to keep an audience that was raw and hurting and scared. The usual ‘targets’ for the show were off limits, just from a decency perspective.

So Hilary and Sarah are a god-send for shows like this. They are new targets, with large bulls-eyes on their backs. And the reason is beyond their politics, beyond their clothes, or hairstyles, or man-ish behavior, or moose hunting. Amy said it so well in a recent interview – “I’m a feminist. I support every woman’s right to get powerful enough to be made fun of.”

New power = new targets for spoofing! Love it!

It was 1969. I was in high school (I know, I know, I can’t help it that I look 20 years younger – it’s just good genes!). In phys ed (aka, gym) class, I learned that I loved to play basketball. I only got to play it occasionally since there wasn’t a girls’ basketball team – anywhere. But, honestly, the way girls were forced to play basketball then, it wouldn’t have been much of a spectator sport. 

Here’s what the silly game we chicks played looked like in 1969.  First, there was the half-court rule. Essentially this meant that, on each team, most of the girls on the court could not go past the mid-court line. These were the ‘Non-Rovers’ – 3 on offense, 3 on defense. Then there were 2 girls who could cross that halfway point – the ‘Rovers’ (I was a Rover!). These 2 were the ones who might actually break a sweat, as they were supposed to be ‘full court’. And, only the Rovers could shoot the ball at the basket. (And, yes, you counted correctly. There were 8 girls on the floor for each team!)

So, as if that were not weird enough, add to it the infamous three-dribble rule. This rule effectively kept the game in the no-sweat zone, and prevented any ball-hogging, for sure! This rule mandated that the ball be passed, or a shot taken (only by a Rover, of course), after three dribbles. This rule applied to Rovers and Non-Rovers alike. So, to clarify for you, a play would look something like this - catch the pass-bounce-bounce-bounce-pass it! 

Three dribbles. Half court. Only 2 ’shooters’. No sweating allowed. A game worthy of a snore or two!

As we teenagers three-dribbled our way around the half court, those darn women’s libbers were kicking up a storm in the media and in the workplace.  Thank goodness! Cause in 1972, along comes the Federal Law - Title IX.

“No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity [e.g., sports!] receiving federal financial assistance.”

Suddenly opportunities opened up in education and, most dramatically, in sports that were never available to women before. High school girls’ sports, as boys’ sports were already, now needed to have a competitive purpose, as newly-funded college teams began to look around for players worthy of scholarship dollars. 

With this seemingly small step towards gender equality – ‘let the girls play, too’ -  it added to the heat of the national conversation that still continues today.  Except today the conversation is different. Today, the question is not ‘why?’ or ‘how?’, it’s ‘when?’ and ‘who?’.  In 2008, this ongoing conversation that started decades before, opened the door for Hilary and Sarah to be in headlines that never could have been written in 1969.

But even more importantly, in all arenas, the conversation continues to be an encouragement for women to dribble more than three times before they pass, and to take the shot, when they’ve got it!!

Happy 35^th Anniversary, Title IX! 

Tupperware was invented by a guy named Earl Tupper. But Tupperware did not become a household word until a Stanley Home Products distributor named Brownie Wise, a former secretary, decided to take it a step beyond those grocery store shelves.

The story goes that she saw the Tupperware, played with it a bit to figure it out, realized that it would sell only if women knew how to use it, and then connected it to her lfei experience with home parties. Voila! The patented ‘Open Mouth Container and Nonsnap Type of Closure’ became an icon.

Ok. Ok. Perhaps there was more than just a magic wand-waving to get Tupperware to that level of fame. But it did start as two disconnected ideas that a creative person brought together that no one else had thought of before. By all rights, Tupperware, should have melted into obscurity. But Wise didn’t see it that way.

What is it that gets those dots connected, that shifts the mind to a new way of linking things up?

I think it starts and ends with believing that you can come up with ideas that are unique. That you can develop a product, a service, an article, a book, a garden, whatever - that is like no one else’s since NO ONE is created exactly like you. Your DNA, your thinking pattern, your life experiences. And that gives you the sole proprietorship on your own ideas. And sole motivator for doing something with them.

Some of us live with a constant bubbling of ideas that we think are good ones, even inspiring ones. Some of us rarely have a conscious idea that doesn’t include bodily harm to someone. But without action they remain just ideas. Never seeing the light of day. Never inspiring others as Brownie Wise inspires, almost 70 years later. Never letting out the unique ‘you’ that is reflected in ideas spun publicly. 

I’d like to say that I live everyday in pursuit and support of my own unique ideas. But I must admit, that I rarely, if ever, find that groove. More often, I get caught up in the tedium of the daily life that I have created for myself.

How did I let that happen? And, what have I done with the ‘Brownie Wise’ that used to live in this body? Creative. Energetic. Fearless.

Ah, how life can change a person.

But, oh, how life can be changed.  Today is the first day of a life that can be changing…my choice. Your choice.

This has got to be the most interesting Presidential election in years. With the most interesting, diverse bunch of candidates. Think about it – 20 years ago could we have been reading the headlines we are reading today?

v    ‘A woman almost made it to the White House.’

v    ‘A woman as Vice President’

v    ‘An afro-American man has major political party endorsement as candidate’

v    ‘A Viet Nam veteran – five years as a POW – still believes in U.S., running for president’

Wow! What a country! And what a path we’ve been on to get to a time like this!