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Old Life

In the immortal words of The Rolling Stones iconic song Mother’s Little Helper, “What a drag it is getting old.”

These have to be the words our Labrador Retriever Silas would say if he could speak these days, now well into his 13th dog year. In fact, he speaks through his old body, racked with joint pain and cataracts and his now almost total loss of hearing. There is absolutely no doubt his constant sleep will soon be permanent. I wonder if he knows it as I look into his eyes, and rub his ears while his tag wags still. It’s hard to watch his diminishment (except for his voracious appetite, the only bit of his old self remaining!).

Last night, while snuggling with him, the words of the ancient prophet Isaiah found my spirit:

Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (40:30-31)

These are the same words on the gravestone of my dearly departed brother-in-law, Dwight Peterson, whose body was ravaged by an infection when he was just 18, and left him in paralysis until his death at the age of 54. I never once saw him walk, let alone run or fly like an eagle, but what comfort I find in those hopeful words on his grave that hold out faith in the promises of our good God, who promises to renew us even as our old age wreaks havoc on our bodies and minds.

Ours is a resurrection faith of hope in the face of diminishing realities that our mortality makes inevitable. Just as inevitable, we are crazy enough to believe, is the renewal of our health and strength, our bodies and spirits, sure as now sufferings and death have their way with us.

As I grow older I’m less an expert on Orthodoxy and better at wandering into wonderful mysteries that are the bunny trails of God’s abundant love…creating, redeeming, sustaining. I’m sure its sacrilege to speak of a heavenly glory for Silas and all the other creatures that we love and who love us. Yet I will revel in my helplessness to ease his pain to imagine a day soon when he can walk freely and run boldly again, maybe even leap off some heavenly dock into an endless lake of never ending joy, for Silas like me is one of God’s creatures. It is that hope which shall comfort us when we put him off to sleep sometime soon.

And how fun it will be someday to see Dwight again, among the saints, fully on his feet again, as he was first created to be, renewed in his strength in ways that I can only imagine.

It is this hope I will choose to rest in as I begin to feel the aging effects of this life, the contemplations of all that’s yet to be. Thanks be to God!

Peter Hawkinson

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