How to honor our elders
I mentioned yesterday that I love old people. On our car ride home, after the benefit luncheon, Jeff and I talked about this and he asked me,
“How can we better honor the older people in our lives?”
Since I’m not one I won’t claim to have the secret, but here’s what I said in response.
:: Listen.
Hands down this communicates love and respect more than anything else. To tell you the truth, although Jeff was the speaker at this event, we spent most of our time there listening. One dear gentleman had two hearing aids and I’d venture to guess he couldn’t hear anything we said. But, he had some remarkable stories of their decades of mission work in Guatemala, and I was so blessed by his testimonies.
Often we communicate more by listening than we do by speaking.
The same was true in Santa Clara. We spent lots of time listening. And when we gave the gift of listening, the SonShiners gave the gift of stories, wisdom, nuggets of truth gleaned from a life well-lived. An exchange took place and both were blessed.
Listening is under-taught in our world. There are books aplenty on becoming a good communicator, but when was the last time we read a book on how to be a better listening? No one receives a prize for being a great listener, but God’s Word tells us we do well when our ears are quicker than our tongues (James 1:19). I think we honor all people, but especially our elders, when we’re willing to simply listen.
:: Slow down.
It was interesting after our talks on not being in a hurry with our kids, that this luncheon reminded me that apparently children and older folks value the same thing–not being rushed. We seriously must have spent an hour going from the salad course to the main course of lunch. Lots of tiny sips of water. I ate really really slow and I think I still finished my plate first. We only sang three hymns together but I seriously thought that by the second verse of the second one that we had been singing for an hour. When Jeff and I left we had been there three hours and I think we were the first to head out the door.
I guess that’s the perspective of those who are no longer as “productive”. And I say that in quotes because we know they really are productive, taking their time to talk and fellowship and enjoy each other. The same with kids. Kids have no to-do list, so they have the freedom of unrushed delight. And while we are called to be productive and to-do lists are wonderful, it was another great reminder that only amateurs hurry.
These guys were the experts of living a looooong life of faithfulness and I’ll tell you there wasn’t a rushed one in the bunch. Perhaps we honor them by walking their pace and refusing the urge to glance at the clock. Perhaps there’s something to the saying that slow and steady wins the race.
:: Ask advice.
Yes, this goes along with listening (it would be rather dishonoring to ask advice and then not listen!), but purposely asking our elders for advice is one of the best ways to honor them. We might not always agree, but asking and really weighing their thoughts can be one of the best ways she show them respect.
I adore google. I seriously look up so many things on google every day. I always have questions about health and recipes and kids and how to pronounce weird words. Google’s my go-to. But back in the day people used to ask people. People used to ask old people. I was recently talking to an older lady who said she felt like young people didn’t need older people anymore because we can just look everything up on the computer. No one asked her advice anymore!
What a shame, right? No computer generated answer will ever compare to the wisdom found in the white hairs of our beloved elders. Advice with skin. Wisdom with love. A kick in the pants and a hug all at once. That’s what older people offer, and I for one am challenged to seek out their advice more often than I have.
If by chance you are reading this and am *ahem* in the winter season of your life, I’d love to hear how you feel best honored.
And to all, today who could we call or write or visit, who could we listen to, ask for advice, or walk in-step with, even if it means slowing down just a tad?
Thanks for reading.
By grace, with joy,
Kari
I love old people.
I love old people. Love them. A funny part of our Road to Santa Clara story is that although we moved down there to be the college pastor, we ended up leading the SonShiner’s group instead–the 50-and-over group that was really the 80-and-over group. Every Sunday morning we’d drink Folgers and nibble donut holes with them and listen to their aches and pains, joys and sorrows. Every week we’d sing hymns with them, us with our noses pressed into our hymnals reading every word, them with their hymnals closed, singing every verse by heart.
I still remember when we first began and we were asking around to learn what to expect and how things were run. The self-appointed leader explained, “After the first three hymns there’s usually some silence and then after awhile Clyde always leads out in The Old Rugged Cross. It’s not planned that way but he always does it, so don’t change things up because he’ll be upset.” And sure enough, we’d wait long enough to start to feel awkward, and then lo and behold Clyde would pipe up from the back and the congregation was off to the races in their traditional hymn.
I loved it. I loved them. Because we were young everyone always assumed we should be youth pastors. They always thought that we’d be drawn to the middle schoolers or high schoolers. No way. Give me the 80-somethings and I’ll feel right at home.
Today we had the privilege of being with another sort of SonShiner group. Jeff had the honor of speaking at a Multnomah Seminary benefit banquet held especially for all the long-time donors who have written Multnoman into their wills or made some sort of planned giving commitment for their estates after they go to be with Jesus.
Let’s just say these are the faithful of the faithful. Not a soul under seventy, the room was full of a collective probably thousands of years of missionary work, ministry, faithful giving . Many graduated from Multnomah in the 50s, one couple had met at Multnomah and been sweethearts there, and were now approaching their 60th wedding anniversary. Precious.
So it was a joy to be with them. For some reason older folks seem to be drawn to Jeff and we enjoy listening to their amazing tales of ministry, loss, victory, triumph, perseverance. We sat at a table and listened to each person share how they came to Christ. Every story made my eyes fill with tears because they all point to a relentless Savior who goes to great lengths to reach His children. Trends change, fads come and go–Our Savior’s love never changes.
Jeff’s message was ABIDE: life on the vine. The gist of it was that when we are connected to the vine we cannot help but bear fruit. We don’t have to manufacture it, stress over it, come up with it on our own. It just grows, and all those around us can feast on the fruit of our connection to Christ. These faithful saints have followed Christ for many years and their lives are just teeming with fruit.
No matter how old their are their fruit is always fresh.
Jeff and I both personally feasted on their fruit simply in that we both received scholarships to Multnomah… made possible through these generous donors. But I also feasted on their fruit today–listening to their stories, learning from their experiences.
I love old people. Especially faithful ones. I hope to be one someday.
—
Thanks for reading.
By grace, with joy,
Kari
Appetites and Masters
The blessing and curse of having a rather *ahem* transparent blog is that my changes, foibles and whoopsy daisies are out there for all to see. But hey, that’s my choice, right? And what’s the point of doing this thing together if not for learning from every success and failure?
So we recently had an exciting (for me) change in our household that totally rocked my Simple Diet and Food Stamp Challenge habits. You see for almost 20 years I’ve struggled with my skin. It is the common thread that’s been with me from 13 to almost 31. Ugh. I’ve had it all from little blemishes here and there to horrible cystic acne in high school that brought me to tears. I’ve run the gamut of philosophies on it from thinking that it was God’s judgment on me for being vain, to thinking that it was just my lot in life, to–in the past year–listening to some dear friends and actually trying to find solutions. But nothing worked. And before you start listing off things, “Did you try such-and-such face wash…?” Yes, I did. All of it. 20 years of trying.
So finally a couple weeks ago I read an article and knew it was right on. It was one of those “aha!” moments when everything becomes clear. The gist of it: The source of acne was carbs. Ugh. Sugar and grains. You see for all my health-consciousness and frugality we were eating lots (and lots and lots) of whole grains, mostly organic and all cooked from scratch, but still tons of carbs. It never occurred to me that living a virtually meat-free diet most of my adult life could have contributed to the mess on my face. I’ve always been fit and have lots of energy and feel great so I never dreamed something was askew with my diet, but of course it makes sense now–I wasn’t healthy on my face!
So I jumped off a cliff and completely quit eating all sugar and grains. And I kid you not, it was almost overnight that my skin radically changed. It’s been a week and a half now and it is so crazy. The average joe might not be able to tell yet because I still have a lot of scarring from before, but it has been absolutely clear since stopping sugar and grains.
I’m convinced. Is this the most important thing in the world? No. But now that I’m researching more and more it’s amazing to see how many health issues are tied to sugar and overuse of grains, especially wheat. And when you consider that I was a bread-baker extraordinaire with a sweet tooth to boot, no wonder there were issues.
Here’s the coolest thing. Not trying to overspiritualize this, but this morning in church my pastor was talking about how when we feed our appetites we don’t actually diminish them we enlarge them. Our appetites grow based on what we feed them. For 30 years I’ve fed my physical appetite bread and sugar (because, let’s face it, it gives us a quick and easy rush and fills our tummies for pennies!) and no wonder that’s what I craved. And I can’t lie, the first 3 days without any sugar or grains (I didn’t even have fruit) were so hard. I can only imagine how hard it is to quit smoking or drinking or come off a drug addiction. A sugar and carb addiction is serious business! But afterwards there was this crazy freedom feeling, this feeling like that of 1 Corinthians 6:12 when Paul says,
“”Everything is permissible for me”–but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible for me”–but I will not be mastered by anything.
I will not be mastered by anything. Think about that for a second. I will not be mastered. There will always be something that wants to master us. Whether it be our physical appetites or our appetite for physical comfort or control or praise or status or whatever. And while all things are permissible, not everything is beneficial. And for sure things are not beneficial when they begin to be our master.
We were created for ONE master and One only.
Anything that we think we cannot live without is threatening to become our master. Certainly not everyone needs to quit eating sugar and grains (maybe sugar!), for some they are perfectly fine. But it does make me wonder how much of today’s disease and sorrow stems from our being mastered by something other than God. Our smoking, our drinking, our overeating, our control, our anger, our manipulation, our moodiness, our anxiety. Anything that we run to, that we escape to, that we bow down to to make us feel ok–all those things are slowly but surely rising up to become masters over us. Little gods. Idols.
How do we know if we’re serving another master?
The fruit.
The fruit of my “master” if you will was some disease on my face. But what other kinds of dis-ease are present in our lives? The fruit of serving other masters will always be sorrow, anxiety, unrest.
Every appetite we feed will grow.
When we sow to the flesh, we reap to the flesh. When we feed our flesh, we reap more flesh. When we feed the appetites of our spirit, we develop a greater and greater appetite for God. For His love, His presence, His will.
And the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.
We’re always feeding some appetite and we’re always serving someone. Which appetite will we feed and which will we starve? And to whom will we choose to bow?
That’s what I’m asking myself today. Thanks for reading along.
Week's end with thanks
- Possibilities
- Peanut butter.
- Hand-me-downs.
- Fresh basil.
- Rearranging furniture.
- Loving what you have.
- Groupon.
- Seeing a spark in my man’s eye, him so excited about our trip together.
- Kids fresh from the bath–is there anything more delicious?
- Quitting sugar–is there anything harder?
- Friends who buy me food from Costco…and deliver it to me at church.
- Lists.
- Crossing items off.
- Heidi in the backyard wearing dress and boots, covered in mud. Face upturned to sky, huge smile, rabbit teeth, apple cheeks.
- Dutch serving his sister. There is hope.
- Memory foam mattress.
- Fresh fluffy towels.
- Little boy bottom.
- Willamette Christian Church.
- Singing the words, “When we arrive at eternity’s shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we’ll sing, You’re beautiful,” unable to keep the tears back. He is so beautiful.
- Catching Heidi’s eye as I enter her class, her smile a mile wide as she runs full speed into my arms laughing, “Mama mama mama!” Was there joy before this little girl?
- Delicious, fresh organic groceries sent home with Jeff from church.
- Taking communion with my man.
- Constructing the coolest couch fort ever–with separate sleeping quarters and two entrances.
- Dutch & Carson wrestling.
- $.39 oranges.
- Heidi’s precious “treasures” that never leave her side: baby, woofwoof, and a plastic Barbie bathtub filled with marbles, a bouncy ball and assorted Lego pieces. She manages to carry all these items, at all times.
- Arranging these precious items around Heidi’s head for nap and bedtime.
- Learning from each other.
- Candlelight.
- Community Group.
- Coffee.
- The city planting trees up and down our street.
- Obedience.
- Drinking water.
- First day of spring.
- The wisdom of a friend.
- Clarity.
- Leaning into Jesus.
- Worship.
- First afternoon walk of the year without jackets–YES!
- Discovering amazing trails weaving around the creek. A fallen tree, dry, perfect for perching. Another two trees fallen together create a log lounger. Basking in a bath of sunlight, gecko-like.
- Kids playing contentedly, snapping twigs, studying leaves, tossing rocks in water.
- “Mommy this flower is for you, will you put it in your hair?”
- “Mommy you’re beautiful.”
- The same wild cherry tree I’ve been watching abloom! White blossoms everywhere.
- The long walk home, child on each hand.
- Tucking little twig treasures in pockets for safe-keeping.
- Roast chicken.
- Jeff and I talking serious in the kitchen then from the corner of our eye seeing Dutch leap onto the corner chair and ricochet off, flying behind the chair and getting stuck between the bench and the wall, wedged and unable to move. We stop mid-sentence and stare at each other in disbelief, then break into hysterics. We all can’t stop laughing. Whose kids are these???
- Daffodil in Heidi’s hair. A spring fairy.
- Holding Heidi in the sunshine, perched high on a fallen tree. Tucking kisses in her neck, sneaking them into her open laughing mouth. She’s peaches and strawberries with skin.
- Trying to type this while she crawls all over my lap: “Please get off me, Mommy’s trying to capture how precious you are!” Ha!
- Hands plunged in warm suds. Slowly scrubbing, savoring, stillness.
- Perfectly clear, smooth shiny glass, vase waiting for wonder.
- Adding the wonder: those wild cherry blossoms.
- Running hands along smooth stones.
- Kids hiking entire way to the park and back. Multi-hour trip. Little exhausted bodies and famished tummies gulping sandwiches and carrot sticks, chugging water.
- Dirty hands, shoes, cheeks. Heidi closing her eyes while she chews. So tired.
- Children’s fingers, ceaseless exploring. Fingering leaves, pulling branches, stooping for a closer look.
- Patience.
- Pump It Up.
- Text from husband: “Need anything at the store?” Thoughtfulness.
- Folding tiny t-shirts, fleece pajamas, little boy jeans with holes in the knee.
- Listening to a sermon online by my brother. Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness to my family.
- Walk right after the rain–perfect beads of water hanging heavy from branches, weight of beauty.
- Fresh air.
- Fresh strawberries.
- Sushi.
- Dutch’s puppy breath.
- Rain.
- Humor.
- Clean counters.
- New life.
- Old friends.
- His mercy.