If you have an aging loved one who has experienced some level of hearing loss, you might want to schedule a trip to your local audiologist just as soon as possible.
 
The reason: Moderate to severe hearing loss can apparently exacerbate cognitive problems. But hearing aids can go a long way towards preventing such problems, according to a study published recently in the American Journal of Epidemiology.
 
The researchers responsible for this study followed 253 older Maryland residents from 1990 through 2013, testing them periodically for memory, learning, language, processing speed and attention. Most of those studied had experienced some level of hearing loss over the years. Astoundingly, the scores of those who wore hearing aids declined only slightly over 20 years, compared to those with normal hearing. Those who did not wear hearing aids, on the other hand, demonstrated the largest declines in their test scores.
 
From what I see at the nursing home where I hang out, the elderly can themselves be the biggest obstacle to getting the hearing aids they so clearly need. I don’t know why they object to them so strenuously; I’ve certainly never heard anyone resist being fit for new eyeglasses.
 
Perhaps this study will provide their children with much-needed ammunition for getting their loved ones to at least consult an audiologist about their options. 

Of all Jesus’ teachings, perhaps one of the best known was quoted by the apostle Paul in Acts 20:35: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Just about everyone’s familiar with that saying, even if they’ve never cracked open a Bible.
 
It’s a lesson I’ve learned well as a nursing home volunteer. I invariably get far more out of the time I spend visiting the elderly than they themselves do – in large part because my heart is so often changed even by visits that I might once have found tiresome. 
 
Such changes of heart were once described beautifully in “women’s novels.” One prime practitioner was author Anne Parrish, who wrote of it in her 1936 novel, Golden Wedding.
 
This enchanting story traces the life of a very imperfect woman named Laura from the late 1800s well into the Great Depression. She is married to an even more imperfect man who becomes quite wealthy through hard work and long hours at the office; one of the compensations he offers his wife is letting her father, a failed musician but highly successful drunk, live with them.
 
Laura’s relationship with her father changes her, little by little, in ways that no one else would ever notice. As Parrish wrote:
 
“When she thirsted for solitude, she would make herself go to her father. Always, after a time, she felt at peace, the hardness in her breast became a heart again. She would listen, not with concealed impatience, but with the true patience that is self-forgetfulness and loving-kindness, to tales of his youth ...”
 
Parrish had it exactly right. Too often, I begin a less-than-fascinating visit with one eye on the clock, thinking about moving on to the more interesting friends awaiting me down the hall. But then, as each old man or woman talks on and on, something amazing happens: I really start listening to him or her. I forget about my schedule and To Do list and allow myself to become engaged in these tales of a distant past. And I discover once again an unfathomable joy, unknown to me before I became a follower of Jesus Christ.
 
In 2 Corinthians 5, the apostle Paul described the transformation underlying this change as becoming a new creature in Christ; and I think that’s a terrific picture. But this phenomenon was perhaps best captured by the prophet Ezekiel more than 2500 years ago, in a promise the Lord made to the nation of Israel: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26) 
 
Whatever the explanation, it’s something that any follower of Christ can experience routinely in the here and now, via “the true patience that is self-forgetfulness and loving-kindness.” I hope you know it well -- and if you are not doing so already, that you'll consider exercising it on behalf of "the least of these," the elderly men and women populating our nursing homes. 

This is is one of a number of interesting images posted at Fstoppers -- images to remind us that time is the only difference between the young and the old. 

One of my favorite things to do is to spend time with an elderly friend, looking through her old photos and hearing the stories connected with each one. These stories are always interesting, and are often heart-wrenching reminders of the sacrifices these people made for us (and of how spoiled we are today). 

Which of course makes it even sadder that one of the few growth industries in this country is housing for the elderly. It wasn't always this way; just a handful of decades ago, old people lived with their children. Now too many are abandoned by their kids, having been turned over to professionals who, in the best facilities (see e.g., www.care-age.com), have more love and compassion for these dear old people than their children do.
​  
Adapted from an 8/17/13 post

There’s one characteristic shared by nearly all elderly women living in American nursing homes – and that’s the fact that almost all are widows.

The statistics are there for anyone to see: Our men are living to an average age of just under 76; women, to almost 81. And we usually marry men who are two or three years older than we are. Ergo, most of us wives  are likely to outlive our husbands by a number of years.

I think about this fact often when I visit my friends at what my mom called "the old ladies' home." And it’s sort of hanging around the back of my mind the rest of the week, too, because these women are my heroes. They have survived what must surely be one of life’s greatest trials -- losing not just their mates and their caretakers but even their identities, as Joe's wife became Joe's widow.

Some, however, are spared the worst of it. And guess what: It's not those independents with feminist leanings, but those who count themselves children of God. 

These, in fact, are the widows who seem to have recovered most successfully from their losses, in my experience. Sure, they miss their husbands greatly and speak of them fondly. They keep pictures on their night tables and walls to remind them of their happy lives together. And they are definitely looking forward with great delight to their impending heavenly reunions.

But for the time being, they are positioned solidly in the present, living new livessans spouse, and gratefully accepting whatever help they need from their brothers and sisters in Christ. 

I remember wondering about this before I became a Christian myself: How do you do that? How do you face tomorrow without your beloved companion at your side? Which is why I look at these women with awe, knowing that they have gone through this dark tunnel and somehow came out the other end smiling.

I remember my mother saying, after my dad’s death at age 59, that she had now turned the page to a new chapter in her life. She didn’t say that right away, of course; it took some months for her to heal enough to view her life in those terms. But she did ultimately say it, and mean it, and live it. 

I wonder how well the women of my generation will fare in this department. I'm sure the born-again Christians will be fine, but we are a dying breed, according to surveys I've seen over the last decade.  How will those who are not born-again manage? 

If the Lord tarries, it's going to be very interesting to find out. ​

Posted originally 3/1/14