The Saturday Journal: Sunrises
She’s in her mid-80’s and she loves plants—house plants and outdoor flowers—it doesn’t matter. She loves them all. She recently gifted me cuttings of a spider plant. I saw her a few days ago and we were talking all things plants, and I gave her an update on the baby spider plant seedlings. And I ask her if she had a string of pearls plant and she laughed, ‘No—but I've got plenty of plants. My late husband would joke and tell people he had to walk through a jungle just to get to our bedroom!’ And then her countenance changed, from laughter to almost defeated, ‘I have to be careful how many outside plants I can have now. I’m not able to carry the big ones into the house when the weather gets colder.’
Yes, there are limitations as we age—really, at any age. And I firmly believe there should be an option on the medical charts that reads—Cause of Injury: Stubbornness. And that’s a whole different story for a different day.
I’ve been sorta on, not so much a tangent—but more like a focus lately—in my thoughts. About aging. I’m a senior citizen now “so says the government or whoever makes those age charts and rules and labels.”
Have you ever really thought about how much, we as a society “label” or have these predetermined notions on how senior citizens or a person with age is supposed to feel—act—live their life in the “golden years”?
6:08 am—that's the time the weather app has planned for the rising of the sun on this already hot and humid June day. It didn't miss it by much. And on this morning--the gift of the blessing is evident in the beauty from the Giver.
I saw him in a distance walking—he had hiking boots on—leaning on a walking stick. He wore a baseball hat. His hair was a grayish white—his well-shaven beard, the same. He reminded me of my Daddy in so many ways—the boots, the shorts, and socks, the beard, and the walking stick.
And then I remembered this was the same man who jumped up out of his beach chair the day before to help my son and my family when the strong ocean winds lifted our tent out of the sand. I remembered his kindness.
The sun rises and at the close of each day, the sun sets. And this image or analogy of a sunset is often related to aging--walking into the sunset. Walking each other home. I won’t argue with these statements. There are true in many ways.
And it rains. The answered prayers of many. And it's not just a little sprinkle--it's a soaking rain--gushing out of the gutter spouts. I haven't seen rain like this it seems in months. A gully washer, my grandpa used to say and the rain--it nourishes the dry soil--the flowers--the grain fields--our gardens, and replenishes the rivers and streams.
Not long ago a sprig of my Swedish ivy vine broke off and I placed it down in water in the tiny bottle the widow gave me. The roots have developed and grown and all it took was a little water and the light of the sun to nourish and spark their growth. Like rain is to the earth. Like sunshine is to life. Like encouragement and love is to the human soul.
And I reflect back on the older gentleman walking on the beach that morning. Walking into the sunrise. And maybe this "senior citizen" refuses to listen when society tells him he's in his last days--last years. I hope he greets every morning with the joy of a new day--with a song of gratitude and grace. I hope in his heart he keeps the words of the poet Mary Oliver close and with every passing day, he looks within and asks himself, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” And most of all, in the days to come--I hope he receives an abundance of love and encouragement along the way.
A humble and heartfelt thank you for reading The Saturday Journal.
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All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.
Another beautiful story that comes alive due to your amazing use of words! Thank you for sharing your gift!