Contrast

Spent the weekend at Women of Faith in St. Louis. I was amazed as I watched Patsy Clairmont, Marilyn Meberg and Luci Swindoll. Marilyn is 70, Luci is 76, and Patsy is probably in her late 60s. They are still very sharp in their mind, joyful in their attitude, energetic in their step. I so want to be those women. I want to be sharp and joyful and energetic. Even as Luci talked about some of her health problems, she was grateful that they weren't more serious. She gave thanks that the doctor only told her that she needed to lose 80 lbs. before he could do knee surgery. She was grateful that it wasn't cancer or diabetes, etc.

I so want to be that.

The weekend was such a contrast to my real life. I am dealing with my Mother, whom I did NOT call last Monday. I felt I needed a break for one Monday. I tried Monday after Monday for the last 7 weeks. And it never got better. Constant negativity and complaining and refusal to see herself in reality. Taking that break from her was hard - because of the guilt and the fear that I would feel the repercussions. But that didn't happen. I called her this morning and it seemed like she is back to her old self. Which isn't exactly peachy, but it is much better than it has been in the last several weeks.

My Mother is 73. But she is nothing like Luci or Marilyn or Patsy. She is grouchy about her life. She is slow to move. Her mind is not to be trusted anymore. She has no joy, no energy. I do not want to be like that.

And we are again dealing with Jerry's Dad, who is also 73. He was in the hospital last week. He only goes when he can basically no longer put it off. His pastor and wife had to take him to the ER because he was in St. Louis and too sick to drive home. They did some tests to find out why he was losing blood again. It stems from an old surgery and they can not fix it and he will have to do blood transfusions for as long as he lives. He came home last Wednesday and is already very sick. He was sick over the weekend again. Weak. Losing blood. But refusing to go to the hospital. He is ready to die. The man is only 73. It is pitiful. His children are angry with him for not wanting to fight for his life. He has a grandson who is 2 years old and who will have no memory of his PaPa, unless PaPa decides he wants to stick around. It is frustrating. And Jerry's Mom is not pushing him to get to the doctor. I think she has pushed and fought for so many years that she is worn out. I do NOT want to be like that. I do not want to be ready to give up at 73.

When I look at Luci and Marilyn and Patsy and see how they are still giving and blessing and doing, all for God's glory, I realize how sad it is that our parents have allowed themselves to get to this state.

I don't want to be like that. I want to be more. I want to be a blessing and not a burden. I want to make my children and grandchildren laugh, not make them crazy with frustration. I want to sing praises to Jesus until my very last breath leaves this body. I don't want to use my breath to grumble and be pitiful.

If you are around when I am 70 or 73 or 76, please hold me accountable to my dreams.