On Growing (our) 'Old'

“Show me, O LORD, my end and the measure of my days. Let me know how fleeting my life is. You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing before You. Truly each man at his best exists as but a breath. Selah I remember as a child, telling my mom I want to be a nice grandma, like my grandma, when I'm old and she told me that to be a nice old person begins, not when we're old, but when we're young!So, however young or old we are, let's begin today to make tomorrow's older version of ourselves a bit more patient, humble, caring and kind. Last night I visited my aunt (Naomi) in the hospital,not because I'm so kindly faithful at visiting my aunts!! but because she happened to be in the room beside my sister-in-law's room.I blinked and blinked as I gazed at my aunt, feeling like I was looking at the face of dear grandma from years ago!My aunt is a beautiful 'old' person just like her mother/my grandma was 💝🙏 Whatever we are doing, who/wherever we are todaywe are 'growing' who we will become when we are old-er! Let's 'bloom' like a beautiful flower; like my mom's amaryllis! Who we turn into when we’re old begins when we are youngThe golden years of childhood mold the makings of the manLike learning the rules of respect, and how to hold the tongueWhat habits we should not neglect and doing what we canTo make this world a kinder place with gentler word and deedTo treat one another with grace rather than spite and greed To be who we imagine when/if we reach ripe eighty-threeBegins long, long before the benediction of fleet/sweet youthBetter to begin now to hone the way we hope to beBefore we look back and bemoan the telling toll of TruthTis no small thing to train a child to live/love the way they shouldTo tame tempers that else run wild, and never lead to good To be a wise old woman-man is not by accidentWe ought to prize, the best we can each opportunityTo mine for wisdom in life’s sacred lease of moments spentRather than wasting acres with wild-oat futilityBecause Time seems to quicken haste with every passing yearThus, no one can afford to waste the wealth of Now and Here Who we want to be when we’re old begins anew, todayTo treasure like nuggets of gold, life’s moments as they spillFrom choices into consequence we cannot wish awayAs they augment investments Time is eager to fulfillSooner than we suppose we feel and see and bear the truthOf what once seemed strange and surreal, turned into living proof This life is full of schemes, it seems, to teach us how to pray And give to God our hopes and dreams, while weathering the artOf ever growing older with each precious, passing dayWhile turning wrinkles bolder, while nothing new tries the heartWhile often we forget while we are busy being youngThe things we do habitually, shape who we will become Janet Martin