LUKY
TWO MEN WERE STANDING ON A LONELY STRETCH OF BEACH REGARDING WITH AWE THE GREAT FOAMY BREAKERS.
They were neighbors, and over their garden fences they had discovered that both were to go on leave to spots within thirty minutes' travel of each other.
Earlier that morning one man had arrived with his family on a visit to the other.
Now they were standing together, the great sound of waves booming over the delighted shrieks of their children who frolicked nearby.
At that moment they were feeling closer to one another than they ever had back at home.
Indicating the children, the taller man said: "You know, I've got one worry in my life.
There he is - my five-year-old son Billy. You know what he's doing with that stick now?
He's fondly hoping to upset some perfectly inoffensive fish family into swimming for their lives.
"Just look at the little imp, lazy, dirty, cheeky.
His wants in life are few - cowboy suits, hiding in bushes, jumping out and startling people.
See those goggles he's got on? Well he'll be wearing them.
Whenever I'm about to take a bath I make sure to get in before Billy has his.
Even before undressing he dons his flippers. Plop, plop he goes into the bathroom and gets his frogfeet wet before he realizes he forgot to bring the Navy in.
Before we can catch him he's into his bedroom for his boats."
The man sighed. "I've resigned myself to the fact that I shall have to support him all all my life.
I love my son, and I don't known where I've failed him. Can you give me any advice?"
The other man threw out his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"Who am I to guide you?" he asked rhetorically. "Just look at the heir to my debts over there - a scapegrace of the first water.
I drop him off at school mornings and fetch him again at lunch.
So I see to it that his blazer is on nicely and his tie straight.
Shoes polished, shirt tucked in all the way, hair combed, and off he goes.
"At lunchtime I pick him up. There he is, dirty, shirt handing out, tie twisted around like a noose...
"Looking swiftly to left and right for fear someone I know is near, I quickly open the door, let him in and off we go.
"I get a beautiful smile - that I can't deny - and take heart. 'How did you do at school today, son?' I ask, my hopes high.
But my courage drops to my boots when he answers:
"Tell me Daddy, did George Best score six in the 8 to 2 cup win on the sixth or seventh of February, 1970?"
Why, I wonder, is he so keen on all knowledge and information barring that contained in his school syllabus?
"Sometimes I despairingly tell him that if he grows up to be a dropout I'll support his wife and children only.
Him I'll chase away - or so I tell him . . ." and again he threw his hands out in a gesture of despair.
The wife of one of the men had been listening to their conversation and moved off quietly, smiling to herself.
"Silly men," she thought, "Why are you so concerned? Look at the order of the magnificent sea round you.
Do you think the God Who created all this grandeur without your help needs the two of you in the shaping of the future of your sons and his?
You just work for them, set them a good example, and teach them to love HIm.
Then He will look after them for you - never fear."
Catherine Nicolette
WELL READERS, WAS I SLIGHTLY AGEIST IN MY YOUNGER YEARS?
Very possibly, very possibly: I simply could not conceive of ever getting older.
I was young; I was strong; the world was my oyster.
I drank my orange juice, did my exercises, and was going to stay forever young.
Ha.
The sands of time have kept on running, and fortunate as I am, I have had a lot of sand run through my particular glass
Which brings me to my point; recently I have been the unwilling recipient of remarks such as the following,
"Well, of course, at YOUR age ... " and
"You really mustn't keep on at this pace. You're not forty anymore, you know."
I know I'm not forty: but why do I still feel seventeen in my heart?
The older I get, the younger I feel - even though the early autumn of life is gently starting to make its presence known.
Grey Brigade
I read of the 'grey brigade'. Why does that remark seem so sad?
What on earth is wrong with being grey?
Why not call those of us gently silvering 'the wise ones' or 'they who have valiantly paid taxes and borne the heat of the day with love for their family and community?'
That has a certain ring to it, and often is quite true.
Recently I was fortunate to be welcomed into an Asian home.
While there, I was asked by the family to bless them.
Apparently older people in the community are viewed as wise, and thus able to bestow a special blessing on the younger members of society.
I blessed them, and received a small gift and fruit. When the impromptu ceremony was over, the family, beaming, waved me off at the front door.
Please don't age
Contrasted to this joyous inclusion of the older individual into the younger community are the communiques I have recently been receiving.
I sometimes feel that I am being begged not to age - or at least give the appearance of not ageing.
I have been exhorted to consider Restylane. Apparently I am in dire need of injections into my face to look like a teenager again.
Another offer - at a price which made me look twice - is to have needles punctured into my face with a roller, so that collagen can grow again and make me look - you've guessed it - like a teen.
Look, believe me, it is wonderful being a teenager. I know. I spent some years as a teen, and enjoyed every minute of it.
Just as every day I am enjoying being in my fifties.
I do yoga, try and think kind thoughts, happily live in the light of God's love and remember every day that one day will be my last.
And I'll want it to be my best.
And no, I don't want to have my skin cut with a scalpel and tightened in order to feel younger.
It sounds painful, I'd be afraid of infection, and really why on earth would I want to cut away the years that God has signed on my face?
How did we become the way we are?
Let's look at our older selves. Yes, many have stretch marks.
And standing next to them, the beautiful children they grew and nurtured.
The marks are a glorious remembrance of life.
Some have wrinkles - lo and behold, I have lines at the ends of my eyes.
You have no idea the number of laughs that have gone into making those.
They show that not only did some rain fall into my life, but a lot of sun shone too.
Great friends who are excellent raconteurs, funny happenings which have brightened my days, joyous moments and adorable children and animals who have made me smile.
I really earned those crinkles - as I used to call them when I was a child.
Some have spider veins on the legs.
Often these were earned during long hours standing in dedicated and loyal service of others at home and at work.
Many of the wise ones have arthritic joints.
There is usually a story behind each twinge which comes on with the onset of rainy weather.
Many an old injury has been in the care of a loved one, or during the call of duty.
I remember hearing of one man who threw himself between his wife and newborn infant's bodies as they were hurtling forward in an accident.
In saving them from injury, he completely smashed the bones in his right hand.
There was a possibility he might never be able to use his hand again.
Yet this meant nothing to him. All he felt was relief at having saved them from injury.
Arthritic joints for him would be a quiet testament in perpetuity for being a noble husband and father.
Ageing is a privilege
It seems slightly sad not to rejoice in getting older. Many of our friends of beloved memory did not have that privilege.
So I will continue to gently sidestep those Restylane offers and pamphlets offering quick face lifts [even just the thought hurts].
Plastic surgery is essential for those in true need. But I really feel we don't need to erase the character life has placed on our faces.
The best answer I ever heard to an enquiry as to whether a non essential mini face-lift should be considered was the slightly bewildered reply, "Why would you ever consider ruining your natural beauty?"
Why indeed.
