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Getting “more” comfortable with “older” age


I am fairly new to John Frye, over at Jesus the Radical Preacher. He has posted a number of poems and the following is one stanza in a poem, called Sweet with Age, about the beauty of the older years. So, no need to be too disappointed that 53 year-old Greg Norman fell short in trying to be the oldest ever to win a major at the British Open yesterday. Or, that I am a step slower getting to the tennis ball or it takes me most of Saturday to recover from a hard week or . . . “Porous to God and to others.” I like that.

A rice paper-thin veil separates these
time-seasoned ones
from eternity’s landscape.
They remember things and laugh,
and cry, but do not seem to regret their journeys.
In their wrinkled faces I still can see the life
that sparkled in their wedding pictures.
They call me “young man” and I like that.
They are sweet with age,
porous to God and others.
They are free from scrambling to make it
or to be somebody.
They are at ease with the uneasy sounds
of the final curtain falling
on this play called life.

They remind me that the dark
shadow of death valley
is cast by the great,
shining light of God’s love.

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