The following prayer was supposedly written by an aging 17th century nun, although I find that attribution a little hard to believe. Still, these are wonderful thoughts to ride into old age, where it can be harder than ever to make and keep good friends.
Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am old and growing older.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on 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 on my 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 other's aches and pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but rather I ask for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness 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. 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.
I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen!
Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am old and growing older.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on 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 on my 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 other's aches and pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but rather I ask for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness 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. 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.
I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen!
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