My husband, on the way home from church yesterday said, “I had a really hard time looking at the photos of your last blog. It is overwhelming to see how quickly our lives have passed.” I knew in an instant that I too had not wanted to welcome the reality that our decades are clicking by faster than ever.
I reminded him of one of the quotes in our church bulletin by Charles Spurgeon: “The anvil, the fire, and the hammer, are the making of us; we do not get fashioned much by anything else. That heavy hammer falling on us helps to shape us; therefore let affliction and trouble come.” That means we are to let affliction and trouble come, we are to welcome it. Who actually does that?
Our son and his family lived in Albania for two years. This country was under communist rule until 1992, and what we noticed that was similar to other countries recently under communist rule is that people rarely look at you when you pass. Strangers are dangerous and might report your family to the authorities. But if you are among the Albanians for a fortnight, their arms are open and their hospitality is bountiful.
While in Albania we found out about the heroic role they played during World War II. Not a single Jew was turned over to the Italian army during occupation! The Albanians saved over two thousand Jews from Nazi persecution. Rather than hiding the Jews in the attics or barns as many people did during that time, Albanians gave them clothes, documentation, and Albanian names.
Most importantly, they treated them like members of their family. Everyone put their own lives in danger of deportation to concentration camps since it was under Axis rule. All of this remarkable assistance given to the Jews was because of the “Besa”, a code of honor that is part of being Albanian. It literally means “to keep the promise.”
One who acts according to Besa is someone who keeps his word and offers safety to a guest and their family.
Pondering Besa and the cost of those who offer it caused me to think about how I often refuse to offer kindness to myself. It seems too costly, and it’s easier to punish myself when I see failure. With dread I went to my annual physical. This year I turned sixty-four and I understand now why The Beatles wrote a song with the lyrics, “Will you still love me when I am sixty-four?” This year has been my demise in more ways than I care to name. But to name just one, my body seems to have softened and shifted even though I am eating and exercising the same. It’s not fair! I don’t like extra weight around my stomach (and I don’t want to buy new clothes). When I was weighed, to my surprise, I had only gained one pound since last year! What? It feels (and looks) like ten or fifteen pounds.
I love my primary care physician. She’s beautiful; she’s brilliant; she’s thorough, and she listens. She stated that other women my age gain a bit of weight but it’s not as noticeable. “You are narrow in the middle,” Jillian said, “so you notice the weight easily. If you understand longevity studies you know that cultures that move a little all day long remain thin and live long.” Immediately I pictured the grandmothers in the jungles of Thailand who always seemed to be moving while gathering vegetables in the fields, or tending to grandchildren or spinning and weaving their beautiful cloth. I certainly have been sitting more in lectures, groups, planes, writing and reading to grandchildren. She then said, “I know you have given up gardening, but maybe set a timer and every fifty minutes of writing go outside and walk for ten.”
She didn’t stop there and went on to say that women tend to remember their younger bodies and expect to stay that way. “When you look at your daughters and daughter-in-law who are thin, it’s hard to not remember that your body was once like theirs. It’s time to accept a flabbier (she didn’t use that word but that’s how I interpreted it) stomach. Maybe you could get a stand up desk” (my husband has one but I have never used it, I like my kitchen table). Maybe you could pull some of your weeds (she didn’t say that, but that’s what I heard in my head). After we hugged goodbye, she started to walk out the door and said, “Maybe I’ll see this in a blog sometime!” Which was awesome because I was struggling with that too!
As I walked to the dreaded mammogram torture chamber, I pondered welcoming this aging body with a “Besa” code of honor: “Thank you aging arms that bruise easily and have lost so much collagen this year without HRT (hormone replacement therapy) you are safe with me. Thank you jiggling thighs and eyes that can’t read without glasses. You have taken me many places in this life and I have seen many amazing sights because of you. I will not despise you in this life. Thank you hair that is getting whiter each year. I will still care for you as tenderly as I have.”
As I drove home I said out loud, “I treasure you, my aging and failing body, we are in this together. I will clear out the clutter of disdain and welcome you with safety and care. Dear body, you are a gift and delight to me. When affliction and trouble come I will harbor you in safety. Even as you become fluffier and droopier I will remain intentional in preparing you to be beautiful.”
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of almost 40 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living! bs
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Becky, thank you for writing this! You are one of the most beautiful women I know and so it surprised me a little to have you name this struggle that I, too, have been experiencing. Too often I treat my aging body as a failure and frustration rather than thanking it (and God) for how well it has served me and for all it has endured. I’m reminded of the anonymous quote, “Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.” Like much of life there is sorrow and joy simultaneously. To have gratitude for what we have been and still are while also grieving what is no longer possible is to live honestly, not in denial or in defeat. Thanks for walking us through that.
Tamara, thank you for taking the time to reply. And, thank you for your amazing compliment. You are so right. To be full of gratitude when so many people did not make it to sixty-four is the way of seeing each day. With thinking that way, all that happens to us is seen more clearly as a gift.
Thank you, Becky, for this piece. I, too, am sixty-four, and I, too, think of the Beatles song. I keep asking God for the grace to accept my aging body and to celebrate it as the vessel that carries me through life. I think of those who did not live to see sixty-four and thank God for every day of life–that now comes in a weight-shifting form.
Thank you, Madeline. It is so fun to know that we are the same age. Yes…each day is a gift no matter what form is shifting! I remember to pray for you since you wrote about your very good friend who died.
🙂 Age hasn’t been something that snagged my attention . . . until my 65th birthday came creeping up on me. 65! how did that happen? Isn’t that old? Am I old? I wondered. It isn’t the weight that pesters me (oh I have it!) it’s the little pains. The surprise the next morning when my fingers hurt from pulling some weeds. Some stairs seem to steep for my knee.
What I do like is sometimes I see a brief glimpse of my beloved Grandma when I’m walking quickly past the mirror. That fleeting image reminds me of being enjoyed and cherished decades ago. I love my Grand Boy. I love he sees me inside. And maybe he will remember me being head over heels in love with him when he’s an old guy walking past the mirror.
I love what you wrote about glimpses of your beloved Grandma while you walk past a mirror. I love this. It has given me many images of both my grandmothers this day as I reflected as you mentioned. Thank you for taking the time to reply.
Beautifully framed, Becky…thank you you for the focus to view these things rightly. Hugs.
Hugs right back to you, Keith! Thanks for replying.
Thank you Becky for your vulnerable, honest portrayal of my new ” normal” and the encouragement to welcome it as God’s gift of slowing down. To life!
Thank you Cindy. Yes…our new normal. And it IS a gift of slowing down and “living” more not “doing”.
The word to me from our kind, understanding God is to “be patient in affliction” which, of course, so much of life seems to be. Yet, if you ever want to sit and lament together, I’m your girl. Besides. Grandmothers are supposed to be both fluffy and droopy. That’s a big part of what makes them so very welcoming to little ones!
Ah, yes Kelli. Understanding God is to be patient in affliction. And…okay…fluffy and droopy….is welcoming!
Yep, right there with you, and the others. Very strange at times, but also very restful in surprising ways. Blessings.♥
I am going to try and focus on restful in surprising ways! Thank you for your faithful replies!
The tenderness with which you talk to your body captured me. I had a craniosacral practitioner do that to my arm and head after a car accident this year. I went right to contempt, for her and me! But as a midwife, I talk to women with this kind of tenderness. And I hear in your words an invitation to enter my words with curiosity and kindness. Thank you.
Bless you with you midwifery and all that your skill and words do to birth new life. You are courageous in mighty ways. And yes…beautiful…I hope there is more kindness in words you speak to YOU!
Although a little younger, your words echo many of the thoughts in my mind. This was a beautiful entry! Necessary and kind. To treasure our bodies…let it be so!
And…it is so easy to be kind to other bodies….just not ourselves! May we learn to be and not do and just be grateful!!
Such a difficult task this blessing of our bodies and accepting the differences age ushers in. I love your wise and tender words that invite me to rest in the beauty of all that is becoming in my aging days. I am 65 and coming off many years of HRT with all the necessary adjustments that ensue. Thank you for inviting me into new avenues of adventure and hope as I anticipate the beauty God holds for me in this season. I want to age with graceful dignity. I think my tendency to kick, scream, and fight the changes only invites more wrinkles! I’m learning to be thankful for all that the years have shown me of God’s tender faithfulness! Thank you for your words.
Dear Christine, I loved what you wrote: “I want to age with graceful dignity. I think my tendency to kick, scream, and fight the changes only invites more wrinkles! I’m learning to be thankful for all that the years have shown me of God’s tender faithfulness!” I have nothing more to add to your wisdom. Thankfulness is the best path for ending our lives. You have encouraged me with your words of faith. Thank you.
Wow. I really needed to hear this today. You express yourself so beautifully, and I forget that even thin women struggle with this aging process, however hard they work to take care of themselves. This was a rather poignant piece for me to read this week, as I may be facing a diagnosis of lupus and/or rheumatoid arthritis, along with the bipolar and fibromyalgia which have haunted me since my teens. Chronic fatigue, pain, and depression have been my companions almost as long as Jesus has. However, in spite of how difficult it has been, his presence has sustained me and I am still here. There is a Haitian proverb which translates to, “we are ugly but we are here.”
I would like to propose a new proverb: “we are aging, we are here and we are beautiful .”
Someone far more eloquent than I (Becky?) is welcome to rephrase it, but here we are, aging, wiser, beautiful in him .
There have been so many times I have wanted to change my body and trade it for one which is thinner, younger, much healthier. But this is where I live and I’m alive.
A dear, beautiful, sweet woman whom I went to church with some years back was murdered this week. She was 19 years young, thin, healthy, until abusive ex-boyfriend took her off the planet. She lost her chance to age on this earth, leaving so many devastated and horrified loved ones. As my heart is breaking over this tragic and unnecessary loss, I am more mindful that maybe, just possibly, this body I have lived in for 54 years is still a gift .
Dear Laura, thank you for sharing all that you did. First of all, I am so very sorry to hear of this woman from your church that was murdered. Oh, how so hard to imagine the many people who are grieving her. I am deeply struck with the hardship you have suffered in your body for so many years. You are alive and your kind words have gone very deep in my heart. Thank you for the gift of sharing with me what you have suffered and how you still live with gratitude.
‘“I treasure you, my aging and failing body, we are in this together. I will clear out the clutter of disdain and welcome you with safety and care. Dear body, you are a gift and delight to me.” Oh how I long to be able to say these words with truth to my own body! It is so tempting to believe that we are alone in our struggle to bless our bodies with kindness, thank you for the reminder once again that I am not…and kindness is worth fighting for!
Dear Janet, thanks for taking the time to reply. Yep…Kindness to our bodies is so big and I often feel like whatever is not working right or looking right is my fault and up to me to make up for it or change it. To just be grateful and kind like we would with a friend, a child or husband is what I long for. No blame. No hatred. Just to be amazed at all that this body has allowed me to do and to be. Kindness….yes.
Dear Aunt Becky,
What an insightful and attention-grabbing article you wrote! The first part of the article about Albania and how the Albanians saved thousands of Jews was new information to me and made me want to research it more. You write very openly and honestly about your experiences with your body too. It reminds me of my parents, now both 58, who have their own experiences with weight increases and physical ailments like bursitis (Mom) and a disjointed rotator cuff (Dad). I will comfort them with your words, that their bodies have taken them very far and also that they have many more places to go with them! I can only imagine that in 37 years, one of the greatest rewards of being the great “64,” will be to look back on all the achievements and relationships my family and I have had and built and to rejoice in the blessed lives we have lived in communion with each other. Thanks for your uplifting article.
Warm regards,
Amy
Dear Amy, what a nice surprise to receive your reply. Thank you. I am glad that you liked it and I, too, loved learning that about “Besa” in Albania. I hope you are well and I send my love to you and your family.