It was common at family gatherings where the attendees were multi-generational to hear the phrase “it’s hell getting old” followed by “but it beats the alternative.” 

 

Then after some muted laughs and nods of agreement, the conversation in some of the older set would morph into updates on the newest ache or pain, procedure or medication regime. Most of this information was unsolicited, and it fizzled out when the food was ready. 

 

I always naively thought to myself, “I am never going to act like that. I’m just going to keep going and shut up about it.” Right.

 

Here I am, just on the other side of middle age reflecting on those days and realizing that getting older is indeed a challenge. I think back on those conversations and realize they were a form of therapy for all the grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles. Comparing the rigors of being an aging human provided a vent and way for younger ones to feel fortunate they hadn’t yet reached the age of pain patches, joint replacements or stool softeners. And discussing your need for a heating pad in the evening was a lot safer than talking religion or politics. The declaration of age and infirmity was also sometimes necessary so the little ones would understand why grandpa can’t roll down the hill in the dandelions — he may never get up! 

 

But overhearing those conversations in my youth was really a school I wasn’t aware I was attending. The graying hair, the slower walk, the occasional grunt or groan, the thinning and wrinkled skin was a foreshadow for my own path. It gave me a little insight into how to go forward and which bumps could be avoided. 

 

I learned from all my family and their cohorts that people age differently, and some have a little easier and/or a little longer road than others. The aging process is unique to each person, and it is not accurately portrayed in television commercials showing old folks sky diving anymore than it is showing some octogenerian splayed on the floor yelling “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” There is a lot of in between.

 

I know for sure that it seems unfair that for some older folks their minds are clear and ambitious yet belong to a body that is slow, stiff and pained. And that inequity is just as profound for someone who can climb stairs, walk miles with ease but has no idea what day it is or who is staring back at them in the mirror.

 

I also know that the life God gifted to each one of us is just as precious at 99 years as it at 9 minutes. And we can only learn to navigate life by living it and seeing each moment as worthy. Not worthy because we are making lots of money, successful, living an active retirement, pain free, illness free, or independent. 

 

We all know that the entire human race dedicates its time, energy and untold financial resources to eliminate all the pain and suffering related to traveling the road of human life. Scientists work century after century to extend life, relieve suffering and eliminate imperfections and disabilities that can impede a happy journey. But what have we learned and where do we go? 

 

The newest effort in Illinois to legalize assisted suicide is certainly not the answer. Skipping the school of life, pushing the easy button when things get tough and becoming our own personal god in deciding when we are worth staying on the road is not the answer.

 

There will always be suffering of some kind, and it becomes yet another teacher for us. We learn compassion, empathy, sympathy from those that need our help getting out of a chair, recovering from a fall, or fighting cancer. Jesus didn’t escape suffering, and His acceptance continues to teach us. 

 

I’m so grateful my grandparents stuck around and didn’t end it all with a prescription. Every moment with them and all the mature people I’ve known and loved so far has been such a blessed gift and treasured lesson. May the measure of life’s worth always rest with God and not our state.