A Prayer – for those growing old

Lord, You know I am growing older. Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject.

Release me from the craving to straighten out everyone’s affairs.

Keep me from the recital of endless detail. Give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains. They are increasing with the years and my love to speak of them grows sweeter as time goes by.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong. Make me thoughtful but not nosey; helpful but not bossy.  With my vast store of wisdom and experience it does seem a pity not to use it all. But You know, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Amen.

Photo:  Blue Mountains. N.S.W.  (c) Marie Trudinger  2010.

If I had my Life to live over

If I had my life to live over:

I would try to make more mistakes next time

I would relax

I would be sillier than I have been on this trip

I know very few things I would take seriously

I would be crazier

I would be less hygienic

I would take more chances

I would have more trips

I would climb more mountains

Swim more rivers

and watch more sunsets

I would eat more ice creams and less beans

I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones

You see, I am one of those people who lives prophylactically and sanely and sensibly

Hour after hour and day after day.

I have my moments, and if I had to do it over again

I would have more of them, in fact I’d try to have nothing else,

just moments, one after another,

instead of living so many years ahead each day.

I’ve been one of those people who never go anywhere without

a thermometer, hot water bottle, gargle, raincoat and parachute.

If I had to do it over again I’d go places and travel lighter, than I have.

If I had my life over, I would start barefooted in the Spring

and stay that way until Autumn.

I would play hooky more,

I wouldn’t make such good grades, except by accident.

I would ride more merry-go-rounds,  and I’d pick more daisies.

(Written by an 87 year old lady)

Photo by Eyup Belen on Pexels.com