On the eve of my octogenarianhood my thoughts turn to old age. For those of you who read my piece a few weeks ago about hair loss due to chemotherapy here is the picture I promised of the end result of that process.
80 felt pretty darn old before I lost my hair, but there is no avoiding that reality now each time I look in the mirror. Even before my cancer diagnosis approaching this milestone birthday was naturally a time of reflection about the future and what my purpose might be in this season of my life. That question has taken on even more urgency now with this very visible reminder of my mortality reflecting off my shiny pate.
One of the most familiar biblical stories about elderhood is the surprise Abraham and later Sarah get when God tells them that their much longed for desire to have a son is going to be fulfillled and Medicare is going to pay the maternity bills:
“God said to Abraham, “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her and also give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed and said to himself, “Can a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Can Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?”And Abraham said to God, “O that Ishmael might live in your sight!” God said, “No, but your wife Sarah shall bear you a son, and you shall name him Isaac.” (Genesis 17:15-19)
If I got that kind of news at 100, or even 80, I’m not sure how I would respond. I like little children in small doses, but I’m certainly not ready for the pitter patter of little feet 24/7.
What if the point of this old-age parenthood story is not biological but theological? What if the message here is that we are never too old or weak or busy to be of use to God’s purpose?
God is full of surprises. My life was upended on September 17 by one word, Lymphoma. I had/have a choice every day since – do I let that scary word define me, or do I ask myself what do I, with God’s help, figure out what my purpose is given this new reality?
That’s a work in progress that is easier some days than others. I just read a timely piece by Diana Butler Bass on this topic as it relates to All Hallows Eve, aka Halloween. In her book, “A Beautiful Year,” she reminisces about how her mother would ask Diana and her siblings every year “who do you want to be this year?” Before she made their Halloween costumes. She didn’t ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up, but this year, now?”
On this holiday when we play with and as ghosts and goblins and honor the saints who have gone before us, that’s a great question for Halloween, an 80th birthday, or any day: “Who do I/you want to be?”
