It's finally warm here in Oregon, and I've been able to do pool exercises almost every day in my little backyard therapy pool. Just that change alone has been very encouraging. Our trees are in bloom and the bees, bumblebees and butterflies are fun to watch while I exercise.
Was cleaning out some old files, and found this prayer from a 17th century Nun. It really tickled me, so I thought I'd pass it on, in the off chance that I'm not the only one that can relate to it. ;-)
Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself, that I am growing older
and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must
say something on every subject and 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 Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details;
give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips from 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
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 person
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.
And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.
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 Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details;
give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips from 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
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 person
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.
And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.
Still on the journey,
Retta
