Lost and Found

Frequently in these posts, I’ve protested change, complaining about everything from the shutting down of Barnum and Bailey to the growth or my grandchildren.  But, until I studied Aging Faithfully, I misunderstood the source of my discomfort.  In an earlier post, I described change as “a metaphor for something most of us seek:  reassurance that some things can be depended on, familiar places in a world that seems increasingly alien.”   This is true, I think, but it is only a part of the resistance to change. 

Freyling has helped me realize that change is difficult primarily because it involves loss.  The closing of the circus or of favorite restaurants, or, more importantly, a shift in an established routine of life, means that something whose presence I trusted has vanished.  The circus is lost; the restaurants are gone, the work routine is permanently altered.

Many of these are simply irritating changes with an easy solution:  it has been simple to substitute new entertainment, new restaurants, and new routines for those that have disappeared.

But retirement also means experiencing aging – and aging is characterized by more difficult losses:  one by one, the joints of the body become unreliable; one by one the mental abilities diminish; one by one, loved ones grow up and begin to assert authority over the aged one; one by one, friends and family members die.

The changes brought about by aging are less flexible, not easily transformed by substitutes.

So I have begun to ask: how do I accept these losses and adapt to them?

I’ve found a way to adapt to the physical changes, methods that I have found useful and hope will be useful for others:  As we change physically, one of the solutions is to get out of denial, and face the physical realities.  We can put our orthopedic doctor’s phone number at the top of our favorites list.  We can purchase a cane (– and use it) and get hearing aids or bifocals – and don’t kid ourselves that these devices make us look old!  Stumbling around or asking friends to repeat themselves (louder) or squinting through a reading – those are things that reveal our age.

We can continue to pursue new learning and new experiences and reveal to our friends and family that most of our abilities have not changed.  The facts that I am learning calculus and that I continue to  accomplish labor-intensive yard work has amazed family members;  these activities show that I am younger than my chronological age suggests.

Dealing with the deaths of people who are my age is difficult, although my faith tells me not to mourn them, but to mourn my missing of them.  It also has made my own death more real.  And so, I have had the discussion with my children about my desires for the end of life, I’ve filled out my living will, I have revised my last will and testament.

But what really matters: 

1. Making each day valuable and one that is pleasing to my God

2.  Trusting in the afterlife – looking forward to that time when I no longer am bothered by arthritic knees, a life filled with doubt, distress over the direction of my country.  In God’s world, peace.

3.  And remembering:  Yes, things are lost, but there is a lost and found:                                                                                                                         

I have found that I have control over one very important factor:  my attitude.  I can remain in a state of constant sorrow over the losses, or I can recognize and celebrate what I have found.

And I repeat often the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change (my losses), the wisdom to change the things I can (my attitude), and the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen