messy stages

There's an elderly lady called Anne I sometimes go and see.

I went today. She must be 97 or something like that. I kind of lose track. (Not half as much as she does, though, which is why it's hard to know).

She's a lovely lady. Full of mischief and sparkle and laughter and fun, with a bright beaming smile and a warmth which ran right through her life.

But some of the time she's losing the plot. I'd heard that she was shouting now. Most of the time.

Which is why one of her carers spoke to me yesterday morning and asked if I'd maybe go in.

She was really quite calm - for most of the time.

I heard her half way down the corridor, mind. Shouting away at the top of her voice. 'Take me away'. 'Get me out of here'. That sort of thing.

I can well understand the sentiment. It must be hard to be old and frail and suddenly find your surroundings all so strange. And your mind not able to process it all as once it maybe was.

Scary.

So in I went and explained who I was. And she really became pretty calm, as I say. Pleased to see me there and glad to hear of people who had been her friends for decades past.

I even got her drinking her mug of tea and eating her bit of cake.

Then all of a sudden it was like she sort of snapped. Or some of the wiring deep in her brain got suddenly crossed and fused.

And Anne was no longer there.

It's strange the way we're made. This whole sorry business of growing old is really hard.

Is this where life finally leads? Drifting to indignity like this?

Or is this more another messy stage in moving on and up into eternal life?

Because there are some messy stages. Right through life.

I mean, babies are sweet and everyone drools at the sight of them and thinks they're really cute. Which they are. But before too long they're throwing their toddler tantrums. Which can be messy affairs indeed.

Then they get through that and we think that really they're not too bad. And before too long they're all cute again with the things they say.

Until the teenage years. Adolescence. A messy affair again.

Plukes all over their spotty face. Bits of downy hair across their chin (the boys, that is). An odd sounding voice and some unkempt hair. And talk about tantrums...!

Messy.

But most of the time they get through that as well. And so it goes on.

Maybe these latter years of failing health are really just the last and final messy stage before we reach the way God always planned that we should be.

Anne's in truth just a mixed-up kid these days. We love her almost all the more for that. And she'll get through it. Grow out of it. Grow beyond it.

And for me as much as her, I'm really glad of that!