Last week I wrote about one of the many clippings I collected when we were cleaning out my grandmother's house after she had passed. The majority were recipes. I remember my parents talking about how great she baked cakes and biscuits; however, by the time I came along her desire to bake was long gone. The last of her cooking we got to enjoy were her annual chicken and dumplings. Of all her clippings I could never find that recipe. The best I could get from her was that she had gotten the recipe from Ms. Yates, her good friend. But back in those days recipes were passed along verbally with little or no measurements.
In this particular clipping she had clipped out in 1965 almost three years before I was born the title was From Day to Day by Lois J. Hurley. I was able to locate this writer. She had authored a famous World's Fair Cookbook from the 50's/ 60's and ordered it to read.
In this article she writes of four quotes that can sum up human history in one minute:
1. Whom the gods destroy, they first make mad.
2. The bee fertilizes the flower which it robs.
3. The mills of the gods grind slowly, but exceeding find.
4. When it is darkest you can see the stars.
She takes number three and expands that if we look at things which happen in a hundred year dimension they either come out right, or it doesn't matter as much as we thought it would. And she addressed the last by explaining that "the stars have always been a sign of hope. Be alert and receptive to them when they do appear; what starts out as just a pinpoint may turn into a blaze of glory that will eventually wipe out all the darkness we undergo."
Her article then took a twist explaining that in middle age the spark seems to leave us and what once excited us is no longer that big of a deal. Surviving bitter disappointments in her life along with over fifty years of days all being much the same she joined these with good fortune and blessings bestowed upon her life. And still she struggled with reaching that point in her life where we settle into "living in the pastness." As many writers do as they work out their own thoughts with written words to share with readers, she summed it up with a prayer a reader had sent to her. It was written by Trappist monks at a Spencer Abbey.
Prayer for the Middle Aged
"Lord Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older, and will someday 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 of 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 other's pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but with growing humility and a lessoning cocksureness 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 want to be a saint…but not one who is hard to live with…for 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 please give me the grace to always tell them so."
AMEN!
