A Prayer for Growing Older

I have always lived on a wing and a prayer without ever believing that prayer changes God’s mind or much of anything else. The first prayer I can remember was the “blessing” at every meal: “Bless this food to our use and us to Thy service. Amen” Never could figure out such words that were repeated each and every day no matter the menu.

The scariest prayer I learned as a child was that bedtime ditty: “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Made you think twice about falling too deeply into sleep.

By the time we reached fifth grade most of us could recite the Lord’s Prayer by heart. I was never quite sure about who our father that was in heaven nor what the kingdom and the glory were forever and ever. The whole thing was a bit too full of fanciful figments of imagination to really have any traction. And you always had to worry about “debts” and “trespasses” and exactly who did and who didn’t.

The best secular prayer I know was set to song in 1970 by Janis Joplin: O lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz./ My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends./ Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends./ So oh lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz? She then goes on to pray for a “color tv” and “a night on the town.” Practical things!

Prayer was a required skill for my chosen profession, and I always had to be ready to bless any moment without a moment’s notice. Such serendipity prayers usually came with more candor than those pastoral prayers that were expected during the Sunday morning worship service, many of which could be had for a dime a dozen in all sorts of liturgical books.

Seems like there’s a prayer for everything under the sun…like stardust itself. I haphazardly “stumbled” over an anonymous prayer that seemed so fitting for my later years; perhaps, it will fit you as well.

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 the 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 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. 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 patience to enjoy the tales of others, but help me to endure them with understanding. I dare not ask for improved memory but a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory sees to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint — some of them are so hard to live with. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. Give me the ability to tell them. Amen.