A Little Perspective On Aging

Thank you Black Willow for the pretty red ribbon!

Today is May 3, 2007. I turned 39 yesterday, and I thought this would be an appropriate essay to add to my portfolio on this most special of days.

You see, unlike many people, I relish every birthday. I am thankful for each new day and every new wrinkle I see in the mirror. For every year I'm blessed with another 365 days on this earth I experience 5,000 more kisses, at least that many more hugs, 365 more sunrises and sunsets, 12,000 more smiles, 1,000 more good laughs, and at least 5 more walks along the beach. I get to hear the birds sing in the morning, the crickets chirp in the evening, feel my cat snuggle with me under the covers and listen to my husband snore beside me, safe and secure in the comfort of our beautiful home.

I was 37-years-old when I wrote this essay, and I feel even stronger now about the philosophy I express in it than I did when I wrote it.

Thank you for taking the time to visit my port, and hopefully you'll come away from reading this essay with a greater appreciation for the gift of life--a gift that each of us is gifted anew each and every day.


Blessings.

* * * * *

Over the years I’ve heard so many people say things like, “A new year, another year older,” or “I cried when I turned forty!”  This has always bothered me, and frankly never made much sense. I mean, if God blesses me with another ten years on this Earth, guess what ... I’m going to be ten years older! And the alternative to getting older is (drum roll please) ... death!

From August of 2002 until May of 2003 I worked as a registered nurse for a home health agency. I took care of people as young as four and as old as 100. My youngest patient (I’ll call him Brandon) was a 4-year-old leukemia patient who required frequent chemotherapy treatments, regular testing, and constant trips to and from the hospital. He was so sick that he’d actually been granted his last wish through the Make-a-Wish Foundation and became something of a local celebrity.

Getting to know Brandon changed my life. He’d known nothing but sickness, disease, and pain his whole short life, but he still smiled and yelled, “Nurse Shannon!” as he ran to greet me. He knew that I’d come to do something that would probably hurt, but he also knew it was necessary. He never complained, but every once in a while I’d see a tear trickle down his cheek.

Whenever one of my friends or acquaintances complains about getting older or says something like, “I found another gray hair today,” I ask, “You want to hear my philosophy on aging?” That’s when I tell them about Brandon. Brandon--who will probably never experience a first kiss, his sixteenth birthday, go to prom, or graduate high school. Brandon, who will probably never have a chance to make love or walk down the aisle or experience the birth of his own child. Brandon will probably never get to experience any of these things because Brandon probably won’t live to see ten years old.

Most of us (to different degrees, of course) have had long, happy, healthy lives. Those of us in our 30s, 40s and 50s have been allowed to experience most of these things already, yet we complain about a little gray hair or a tiny wrinkle. It is only by the grace of God that we will never know what it’s like to be four years old and facing our own mortality every moment of each and every day.

As I write this I am thirty-seven years old and I say, “Thank God for the few lines I have!” They represent many years of laughter and good times. They represent spending too much time out in the sun when I was younger, but at least I had the opportunity to enjoy the warmth of beautiful summer days. They represent holidays with family and friends and long camping trips and wonderful vacations and late Friday nights and lazy Sunday mornings. They represent my life.

So when someone asks me how I feel about getting older I say, “Well, I have this philosophy. Would you like to hear it?”