When Life Whittles You Down

Quoting Ben Patterson, from his book The Grand Essentials:

I have a theory about old age...I believe that when life has whittled us down, when joints have failed and skin has wrinkled and capillaries have clogged and hardened, what is left of us will be what we were all along, in our essence. Exhibit A is a distant uncle...All his life he did nothing but find new ways to get rich...He spent his senescence very comfortably, drooling and babbling constantly about the money he had made...When life whittled him down to his essence, all there was left was raw greed. That is what he had cultivated in a thousand little ways over a lifetime. Exhibit B is my wife's grandmother...When she died in her mid-eighties, she had already been senile for several years. What did this lady talk about? The best example I can think of was when we asked her to pray before dinner. She would reach out and hold the hands of those sitting beside her, a broad, beatific smile would spread across her face, her dim eyes would fill with tears as she looked up to heaven, and her chin would quaver as she poured out her love to Jesus. That was Edna in a nutshell. She loved Jesus and she loved people. She couldn't remember our names but she couldn't keep her hands from patting us lovingly whenever we got near her. When life whittled her down to her essence, all there was left was love; love for God and love for people.

Karen and I visited my dad today. He's 93. We woke him up so we could chat for a few minutes. I helped him sit up and swing his legs around so he could sit on the edge of the bed. Life has whittled him down. When I was little I used to sit in church and play with his hands. They were big and strong. There is still strength in his hands but he's frail now.

My dad has led a rich, full life. Ninety-three years -- the stories he can tell of growing up on a South Dakota farm during the depression to serving in World War II to raising a family in Minneapolis. The adventures, the careers, the vacations, the friends, the churches. Ninety-three years. Few regrets.

Dad is not senile by any means, but he is so much more like Edna than like Ben Patterson's distant uncle. There is not a hint of bitterness in Dad these days. Sure, he misses Mom. We all do. But he has a deep, abiding faith, even now. When I look at Dad's essence, I like what I see. Dad has told me several times in recent months that he's ready. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippian Christians, tries to decide whether it would be better to remain here or to depart and be with Jesus. He says, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." Dad is ready...and waiting. When he walks into the presence of Jesus I expect he'll hear "Well done." Then he'll fall on his face and worship. Then he'll go look for Mom.