I have just come from my Sunday morning ritual of watching CBS Sunday Morning. I have been doing this for years. I always cry. There is always one, if not more, segment that touches my heart. This morning’s theme was on aging. Whew! I stand in this place between young and old. Some of my friends call it old. I cannot go there because there are too many things I have yet to do.

I look at my father and am always amazed at how much he has shrunk and the fact that he looks older than his voice and his actions. It makes me proud that he still chops wood and travels with my stepmom. Of course, his grandmother, my great-grandmother, lived to be 102. He is pushing 80. Which brings me to a right of passage I don’t like. Last year my last two grandmothers died. I spoke of the profundity of this at the time. I thought it was intense then. The intensity has not faded.

They were wise women with human challenges and were teachers right up to the very end. This morning, as the show looked at the positive side of aging including the WWII memorial, I was struck by how much people give. Most don’t give for the reward or the glamour; they give because it is in their hearts to give. They teach, they assist, they save, they heal, they smile and they love. Someone said that, if we would pay attention to that wisdom, the world would be a different place. That’s the point.

Those who come before us have given often given in spite of their fear and their needs. We often do not take the time to receive, to listen, to ask questions and to respect. What wisdom lost! I had the great gift to sit by the hour and snap beans with various grandmothers and great-grandmothers. We talked about nothing and everything. I watched their worn, strong and loving hands. I giggled at their teasing. I huffed at their instructions. Most of all, I grew wiser within those hours. I learned how to listen and ask questions. I learned how to complete tasks. I learned that food is much more than cooking. I even learned that there is a purpose to weeding. I watched their faces and saw much more that the smiles, laughter and words that were on the surface.

Today I watched, just for moments, the faces of the WWII soldiers and saw their faces and more that they presented. I saw their strengths and their weaknesses. I saw their pride and their love. I saw their pain and their honor. I saw their confusion and their remorse. I saw their joy and their gratitude. For a fleeting moment, I saw all that we have not received from them. I saw their wisdom that, if listened to and acted upon, could change the way we relate to each other at home and abroad.

I also felt the stories untold, the insights unshared. This is not to say that all of us don’t need to have our own experiences. Let us not distance ourselves so far from those who carry our history. Our experience can be stronger and, I believe, that we can be more effective when we listen and receive. So, as I stand in this place between old and young, I ask you to learn more, love more, heal more, share more, listen more and receive more. Embrace those who have come before and receive their gifts. Allow them to help make you wiser.

Blessings to you on this journey called life,

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