“To care for the elderly means then that we allow the elderly to make us poor by inviting us to give up the illusion that we created our own life and that nothing or nobody can take it away from us. This poverty, which is an inner detachment, can make us free to receive the old stranger into our lives and make that person into a most intimate friend.

When care has made us poor by detaching us from the illusion of immortality, we can really become present to the elderly. We can then listen to what they say without worrying about how we can answer. We can pay attention to what they have to offer without being concerned about what we can give. We can see what they are in themselves without wondering what we can be for them. When we have emptied ourselves of false occupations and preoccupations, we can offer free space to old strangers, where not only bread and wine but also the story of life can be shared” (Henri Nouwen).

I think I remember reading about different cultures in the past where two or three generations of the same family lived under one roof, and when one got older, the family would take care of that person. I understand that times have changed. I also understand that we live in a very modern Western society where we have facilities for caring for those who can no longer care for themselves.

This is not bashing those institutions or those who place their aging loved ones in such places. This is about how there is a kind of joy that comes from taking care of the elderly. They have so much wisdom from having lived so long. They have stories and pictures and memories to share.

I’d give anything right now to have at least one of my grandparents alive again to be able to listen to them talk for as long as they wanted, to look at old photo albums, listen to old music. I’d even take hearing the same stories told again and again.

This society doesn’t value age very much. We tend to glamorize youth and desperately seek ways to prolong looking and acting young rather than to teach about how blessed it is to grow old gracefully and embrace each stage of your life.

I’m 52, and as much as I want to think I’m still in my 20s, my body reminds me that I’m not. My brain may think I can stay up until 2 am and be okay the next morning, but the rest of me is like, “Are you kidding me right now?”

My church advocates for mentoring between young adults and older adults. I can think of no better way to gain wisdom than from someone who has a lifetime of learning by trial and error and from knowledge and understanding passed down through generations. Hopefully, I can be of value to the next generations as the older generations have been to me.

The best way to learn to love and follow Jesus is to spend time with those who have loved and followed Jesus for a lifetime. My pastor talks about how his love of the Bible and prayer came from watching his own father spend time in the Word preparing for and praying over Sunday School lessons.

That’s not a bad idea.