Prayer for the Middle Aged
"Lord, Thou knowest better than I, that I am growing
older and will someday be old. Keep me from getting loquacious, and
particularly from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every
subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to try to straighten out
everyone'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, at least enough for
pallbearers with a mourner or two. Do not let the editor head my obituary with
the words, 'Old crab dies at last, everybody glad.'
"Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details;
give me wings to get to the point. 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 cock-sureness 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 Saint;
some of them are so hard to live with, but a sour old woman is one of the
crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in
unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. Give me the grace to tell
them so."
