Prayer in Old Age

Prayer of a nun from the 17th century

"Lord, you know better than I know myself that I am getting older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to straighten out everybody'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 you know, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind from the recital of endless details - give me the wings to come to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and my love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter. 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 cocksureness 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 the talents in unexpected people. And give me the grace to tell them so."

Shaped by God

"I used to imagine it was our job to make ourselves holy. I've slowly realized that we often seek for ourselves our own satisfactions and complacency-- even in the most apparently unselfish efforts. God shaped us, not we ourselves. Through life, in ways we would never have planned, God strips us of our ego, prepares us for Godself. For an active person, the hardest penance is to be unable to act. For Jesus at the height of his powers and vigor, the cross meant being passive, nailed down, speechless, helpless. We could not and would not plan these experiences for ourselves. Jesus begged for the chalice to pass from him.

Who would ask for Alzhemier's as a way to go? But if we believe in God's Providence-- and that is not easy-- that must be what he was doing to Moira, who had given him an enthusiastic life. The real achievement of that life was not in her creative efforts or sleepless nights at the service of others, but in her recognition of God's hand in the suffering which accompanied her to the grave."

-- Sacred Space: The Prayer Book 2011