Sometime I wish I lived in a Norman Rockwell painting
Settled down in that vivid warmth and silliness
Uneven socks in their breathtaking imperfection
impish winks above cherry cheeks
Soda shop counters on a first name basis
That left corner of the mouth turned up into life
George Bailey lassoing the moon in baggie pants
Bubble gum apple pie simplicity
A dance of playful rest
Wrinkled wisdom of the ages beckoning us to listen
Reminding me of Park Place Church of God
That white steepled stained glass gift box
Where my all my aunts and uncles tied the not
Where Dad gaped at Mom coming down the aisle
And 25 years later I walked out a breathless bride
Now Sunday mornings spark littered pews of mostly silver hair
Some would lament the aging of a church
But I can’t help but think of old Norman Rockwell
And how every wrinkle tells a story
Every baggy eye hiding some impish wisdom,
every note in the worn hymnals floating up in classic praise
like the perfume of home cooked meals
wafting in snug homes blocks away from any Golden arches
where old seems new and nostalgia is the new modern
and where I breathe a little easier
I wonder what I could learn from the minds and hearts
of these silver crowned sages
what epic stories of faith
what buried treasures
lie in wait
what if the young looked up from our smartphones
to bow with respect to the aged
and listened
They don’t have an app for that.
“You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair. “ Douglas MacArthur
“The years teach much the days never knew.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life.” Proverbs 16:31
“Wisdom is with aged men; with long life is understanding.” Job 12:12
“Lift high your praises when the people assemble,
shout Hallelujah when the elders meet!” Psalm 107:32
