Learning How to be Old
I AM . . .
I . . . AM . . . ME!!! Staring out the window, I let the idea slowly sink into my four-year-old brain. This idea was an incredible revelation. I am ME!!! I have been talking to ME my whole life. That voice in my head is ME. The feeling that flowed through my body felt familiar to this little farm girl: precisely like touching the wire of an electric fence.
“Well, hello ME.”
I am sure everyone comes to that realization at some point in their early lives. The recognition that when we think good thoughts, when we think bad thoughts, all that stuff that comes from inside our heads is coming from the essence of who we are.
Oh, dear!
That awakening did not mean I quickly became the master of my soul. Years would pass as I grew in my understanding of an incredible reality: I am a Me who is very dependent upon the Creator of Me.
Dallas Willard says, “Understanding is the basis of care. What you would take care of you must understand . . .. If you would care for your spiritual core—your heart or your will—you must understand it” (Willard 9).
I am in the process of rereading Dallas Willard’s Renovation of the Heart for probably the fourth time. I need those reminders: The little taps on the shoulder; the below-the-surface digging; the warm encouragement; the reminder that life is more than slogging through this muddy, fallen world.
Will I ever be renovated entirely, I wonder? Probably not. But the promise of someday living closer to what God intended for this “me” that He has created compels me to continue this conversation between the Creator and the Me.
Who Am I? #2
“You need to write a song!” These words coming in Messenger from a nephew startled me. “Who? I don’t write songs!” I wrote back.
“Yes,” he replied. “You.” He proceeded to give me some of his reasons and suggestions.
Both he and his young son have been involved in bands and gigs. They were looking for words that my grand-nephew could put to music for his next gig at The Hard Rock Cafe in their city.
Gazing at Steve’s Facebook picture I tried to see the little boy I once knew. Yes, behind the long gray hair and the white beard I still could see a semblance of that little boy. That sweet three-years-old boy self-consciously walking down the aisle toward Judd and me carrying a white lace pillow. That gentle little boy sitting on the porch step at Grandma’s house cradling a fluffy gray kitten. That sensitive fun-loving little boy now grown into a man.
Yes, I can write down memories and dreams laced with hope and promises. These words are for you, Steve!
Who Am I?
Just a child full of wonder
In a multi-colored world
Dancing, skipping, laughing
Life is safe, secure, and warm.
Chorus
Set me dancing, skipping, laughing
In this multi-colored world
Lift my heart to hear the music
To the Mystery of Life.
Just a young man reaching out
To a crafty, luring world.
Testing, tasting, and still laughing
Life’s beguiling work’s begun.
Just an old man losing foothold
In a crazy, mixed-up world.
Mystified, his search is muddled
For the wonder he once knew.
Renovation, renovation
In this old decrepit soul.
Can the potter change this vessel?
Can the child be restored?
Chorus
Set me dancing, skipping, laughing
In this multi-colored world
Lift my heart to hear the music
To the Mystery of Life.