Lord, thou knowest better than I know my self that I am growing older and
will some day be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say
something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to
straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful
but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it
all, but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get
to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and
love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help
me to endure them with patience. I dare not ask for improved memory, but for
a growing humility and a lessening cock-sureness when my memory seems to
clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that
occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so
hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the
devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and
talents in unexpected people. And give me. Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.
