My Elderly

I was always aware of my parents being older.  Going around the third grade lunch table, we shared the ages of our parents regularly.  At the time, I was struggling with some dyslexia, and often reported my mom being 84 (she was 48) and would get the appropriate gasps at her age.  Even when I did get her age right, there were gasps of disbelief.  It continued throughout school, with recurring announcements that my "grandparents" were there to pick me up, which always ended with a bit of disappointment.  In middle school, a friend and I did the math and realized her father was 6 months younger than my older brother.  Her father.  This later resulted in finding her grandmother to be a couple of years younger than my mom.

Their age never bothered me, though.  Sure, it made me a bit awkward around my peers.  I said "howdy" instead of "hi", I preferred to drink my chocolate milk belly up to the bar at the campground near our llama farm while my mom played cribbage with another patron and I watched the daily news and commented on the weather like any respectable 50 year old would.  I was up before the sun and to bed soon after it had set.  

There were pros to having older parents, though.  While my mom was consistently nervous about everything, my parents also knew how to handle everything.  I didn't worry when the power went out, when the flood washed out the aforementioned campground, when my dad ran over his foot with the lawn mower.  My parents just handled things.  It was a pretty calm, quiet environment.  My parents were a bit "hands off", as was their generation typically, providing me with what I needed to succeed, but having to do it myself taught me self-discipline and let me develop my personality without being forced.

I bring up my aging parents because soon they will also be my neighbors.  My dad, who is now at retirement age, is in communication with a company that builds log cabins.  In a couple of weeks, Jim and I will look at some of the cabins this company has made to start the process of designing my parents dream retirement home.  Actually, it's a combination of their dream retirement home and our dream home, as we will be inheriting it (hopefully years and years down the road).  

Much like my wedding day, instead of feeling thrilled or nervous about my parents living in the same town as we do, I look forward to moving ahead with my calling.  I feel a tremendous peace about the possibility of caring for my parents as they age and pass away.  I feel it will be my honor to care for them and when the time comes (again, hopefully years and years down the road) when there will only be one left, I feel it will be my duty and privilege to care for the remaining parent.  I think taking care of aging parents shouldn't be taken lightly-- they are "my" elderly, after all, so they are "my" responsibility.  

I am in an interesting place in my life-- I wait impatiently for new life in hoping for a child of my own as I also prepare to care for those with lives well lived.  I often find myself thinking about the beginning and end of life, while I myself live (Lord willing) somewhere in the middle.  

While we continue to pray for a child of our own and a grandbaby to help make the transition to Nebraska living more fun, I have started directing my prayers more towards an easy transition and a good retired life in Nebraska for the people who are responsible for "all of this" (*I pointed at myself while doing that and put on a winning smile, in case you were wondering).  I pray that my dad's cancer will be healed (we'll be finding out today or tomorrow what the chances of that are) and my mom will get healthier with me encouraging her to eat better and get daily exercise.  I pray I can be a blessing to my parents while also keeping my husband as the top priority of my earthly life.