Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope

Guest (Female): Welcome to Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope. Joni's mother used to say, "Getting old ain't for sissies." And here's Joni to share a few more details about her dear mother and a 17th-century prayer.

Joni Eareckson Tada: Don't think Lindy Eareckson was a tiny, old, shriveled-up grandmother when she said that. No, rather, my mother played tennis until the ripe age of 84. Her biggest challenge at that age was not being able to slice the ball across the net like she used to. Another one of her sayings when she reached her mid-age was, "Joni, when you get to be my age, I'm just sorry I will not be around to say, 'I told you so.'"

We used to laugh when she'd say that, but my mother was right. Her old age caught up with her when she finally tripped on the tennis court going for a backhand shot. After that, she had to content herself sitting on the sidelines and keeping score. I always thought it would be a cinch to grow old gracefully, but I found out differently.

Living life with quadriplegia is hard for anyone at any age. But when your bones start to get thinner and your muscles weaker, it is a double handicap. And you don't even have to be a quadriplegic in a wheelchair to identify, right? Your days are filled with challenges, but when you get older, those challenges feel a whole lot heavier, don't they?

It's why when I stumbled across the following prayer in an old book written by an anonymous saint from the 17th century, I decided to make it my mantra. Let me read it and you'll see what I mean.

"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 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 do 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 swiftly. 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 others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memory of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a sour old person. Some of them are so hard to live with, and each one a crowning work 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."

Amen. Oh, friend, isn't that a great prayer? And if you'd like a copy—and I bet you do—go to joniradio.org today where you can download it, print it out, and tape it up somewhere as a daily reminder of how to grow old gracefully.

And if you need more counsel, why not memorize Ecclesiastes chapter 7, verses 10-12? There it says, "Do not say, 'Why were the old days better than these?' For it is not wise to ask such questions. Wisdom, like an inheritance, is a good thing and benefits those who see the sun. Wisdom is a shelter."