When I was a teenager, my sisters and I called our parents “the fossils,” but they really weren’t very old. It was affectionate, and they indulged us. Never living near my grandparents or having a close relationship with them, God gifted me with friends who might qualify as “fossils,” in an affectionate way, of course. Some have been mentor as much as friends. I’ve gained so much from older people in my life.
Today’s Western culture has veered hard in the direction of divided generations. I fear much is being as younger adults never know the value of making older friends. Have you ever made friends with a “fossil?”
Older People Slow Our Pace
I remember one older person in my life. Visiting her was like sitting by a quiet stream. A single chair sat on the porch of her studio apartment. Inside, a few pieces of furniture formed separate spaces, though my chair was up against her bed. From every corner, we could see the bird feeder in the tree. She had a tweed couch like ones at thrift stores. She told me she was on a list for a one bedroom, but it was fine for now. No hurry.
Each time I arrived, she led me to her pantry to pick out a drink. While there, I reached for other things she needed the day before but couldn’t get. While we got ice, we’d linger and talk about my kids. She had our family photo displayed with a magnet. My grandmother never put our picture on her fridge, but my friend did.
On the way to the couch I would always hear how good it was that I was there. Once we arranged our pillows and confirmed what day it was, everything slowed down. I slowed my breathing while she asked questions. I waited while she closed her eyes to imagine what I described. Then, like the strumming of a dulcimer, she would alternate with hums and soft laughs and “my my my,” shaking her head and rubbing her knuckles. Like a sunbeam breaking through her tree outside, something I said would suddenly remind her of life long before the chair on the porch and the request for a one room apartment. She sang her song of remembering and I practiced accompanying her with my own expressions until I would blurt out, “That’s so amazing, it’s hard to believe.” But she assured me it was all true, but we both were sure we weren’t sure. It didn’t matter.
Older People Guide Us In Our Life
Sometimes I did her shopping. Other times I brought her something I cooked, because she didn’t cook anymore. Sometimes I did hard things like open cans and climb on the stool. Once she came to our house for Sunday dinner; I arranged our pillows and tried to slow my family down. Her smile was so big it made her eyes fill with tears, and I was glad to have my family at the quiet stream. There were more “my my my’s” than I could count that day, and it all mattered.
In those days, my pace was often frantic and my heart was more frazzled than she knew, but I’m not sure. I told myself the visits were for her, and she said they were, but I found myself finding so much relief and rest by that stream.
Truth be told, though she didn’t always tell the truth, she was teaching me and encouraging me and helping me. All those times we stood at the fridge talking about my family, she was tutoring me in gratitude. When I went to her panty or took her shopping list, she was shaping my contentment. When I shifted her blankets with her Bible and prayer journal perched on top, she was mentoring me in God’s word. And in the quiet time of breathing slow and taking my pace captive, she was teaching me what was worth remembering. She laced Bible verses she was reading into all of our talks and felt the freedom to laugh out joyfully about what she was learning about God and heaven. She loved it when we prayed together and usually took initiative to say we should pray. When we went out to breakfast together, she acted like it was a feast and managed to make the server happy.
I came to serve her, but I became her student. I went to help, but she became my friend.
Older People Teach Us About Life Seasons
She had some hard times, and when I went to sit by the cold rail of her hospital bed, I could barely hear the quiet stream. I hadn’t walked through that part of life with anyone before, but she let me go there with her. Every time I left her, she told me she loved me and she would pray for Jeff and JoHanna and Jacob and Trace, our dog. I believed that was true, because it mattered.
Without getting close to older people, we may miss understanding how life develops, changes, and ends. For the first time, I had a front row seat to a part of life I hadn’t yet approached. Before I knew what I didn’t know, she let me learn from her own life ahead of mine.
Making friends with a fossil is as much about receiving as it is about giving. It’s as much about learning as it is about serving. It’s as much about being loved as it is about loving.
Finding such a friend is worth looking for, gently uncovering the treasure, and treating it with the care it deserves when enduring so long and being covered up by so much new. Younger people need older people as much as older people need younger people.
“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12)
5 Ways to Make Friends With an Older Person
- Find out who lives where you live. Ask God to show you the older person. She’s there.
- Start with a fossil in your family.
- Look in a coffee shop, church service, or park. Make eye contact and say hello. Then ask a question and listen.
- Contact your church or Council for Aging and tell them you’ll help run an errand or help with a chore.
- Find out what day your grocery store gives a senior discount. Shop that day.
