“That I may finish my course with joy!” (Acts 20:24).
A few fortunate senior citizens go on pretty much as they always
have with very few parts out of order, but for most of us, aging exacts a heavy
toll. Solomon’s description of the process sums things up pretty well:
In old age, your body no longer serves you
Muscles slacken, grip weakens, joints
The shades are pulled down on the
You can’t come and go at will. Things
grind to a halt.
The hum of the household fades away.
You are wakened now by bird-song.
Hikes to the mountains are a thing of
Even a stroll down the road has its
Your hair turns apple-blossom white,
Adorning a fragile and impotent
To think of all the
things you used to do and can’t do any more only makes you feel worse. It’s
much better to poke fun at oneself rather than grumble and complain. Thomas
Aquinas said, “It is against reason to be burdensome to others, showing no
amusement and acting as a wet blanket. Those without a sense of fun, who never
say anything ridiculous, and are cantankerous with those who do… are called
grumpy and rude.” 
joints, hearing and memory loss, failing eyesight and stumbling gait are no
fun, but we can survive them by managing to see them, among other things and despite
everything, as desperately funny.
delightful about old folks who keep their sense of humor. They’re a joy to be
around. Like the eighty-year-old gardener who, when asked how old he was,
replied, “I’m an octogeranium.” You gotta love it! An old man with a young mind
and puckish wit, the kind of person you love to be around.
How can we gain and keep that perspective? Well…
it’s a matter of faith—putting one’s trust in our Father’s wise bestowment
(what the Bible calls our “lot”), His compassionate, kindhearted care, His
unfailing love, and His unbreakable promise that someday He will cure everything
that ails us and take us to be with Him forever. These are the truths that
satisfy and sustain us, that enable us to rise joyfully (albeit painfully) each
prophet, Habakkuk, put it this way:
Though the cherry trees don’t blossom
the strawberries don’t ripen,
Though the apples are worm-eaten
the wheat fields stunted,
Though the sheep pens are sheepless
the cattle barns empty,
I’m singing joyful praise to GOD.
turning cartwheels of joy to my Savior God.