Nearing Home by Billy Graham (best book club books for discussion txt) 📗

Cliff lead hundreds of massive choirs down through the years, but I would have liked to have been there.

But no matter who you are, nothing will halt the onset of old age completely, and like it or not, the longer you live the more its burdens and disabilities will become your companions. Rather than deny the realities and ravages of old age, it is far better to admit them and prepare for them—and, by God’s grace, even welcome them as part of His plan for life.

WHEN LIFE SLOWS DOWN

If I had to summarize in one word the changes that come over us as we grow older, I’d probably have to use the word decline. Most obvious is the decline in physical strength and the ability to do everything we once did. Gradually our muscles grow stiff and lose strength; our mobility lessens; our hearing and eyesight begin to deteriorate; our reactions slow down; our physical stamina begins to fade. Much as I might wish otherwise, at the age of ninety-two I no longer can get out of a chair by myself. Several years ago my doctors insisted I begin using a walker to prevent me from losing my balance and falling. I would have been foolish to ignore their warning.

As age increases, energy decreases. Everything seems to take longer, even recovering from illness or periods of activity. Someone asked me once what my biggest surprise was about growing older, and after thinking about it, I answered, “The loss of strength, the sheer inability to keep going.” In a weakened state, disability and pain are unwelcome guests that not only refuse to leave but also threaten to move in and take over.

Another new reality in this stage of life is watching friends and family members become ill or die. Hardly a week goes by without news reaching me about the illness or death of someone I have known. But it’s not only the aged. It seems as though more and more young people are being diagnosed with diseases that once were thought diseases for the elderly. Parkinson’s disease has attacked many young bodies, and I have known many parents who have taken a grown child back into the home to care for him.

In some cases older folks can learn from the younger who are dealt such blows. One young man comes to mind. He was in the prime of life—thirty years old—and had an exciting future planned. As he was driving down a highway, a pain in his chest caused him to pull over at the side of the road. When the worst of the pain subsided, he drove himself to the hospital and within days was diagnosed with a malignant tumor wrapped around his heart. Through months of surgery and treatment, his attitude amazed the doctors at the University of Michigan. He was a good-looking young man. In spite of the tubes, needles, and strong medications, his countenance shined. When the doctors asked him where he drew his strength from, he was able to share Christ with them. While the doctors gave him little hope, they tried to encourage him by saying that a miracle could save his life. He looked at them with blessed assurance and said, “Docs, I’m in a win-win play-off. If I live I win. If I die I win.” Not long after, he passed away with the great assurance that he would be united with the Lord, and he left behind a testimony that is still remembered at the University of Michigan Medical Center. That’s a lesson from which we all can learn.

There is no doubt that catastrophic illnesses take their tolls on the elderly. Just as our bodies age and decline, so do our minds. In reality the two are closely connected; as we age, physical changes take place in our brains as well as the rest of our bodies, causing everything from mild memory loss to dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.

Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease. I still remember the sadness I always felt when visiting former President Reagan, after the disease had tightened its grip on his mind, and he couldn’t quite recall either who people were or the office he had once held. I last saw him on the lawn of his home in Bel Air, California, at the invitation of his wife, Nancy. After I visited with her in their living room, she asked if I would like to say hello to Mr. Reagan, and I readily agreed. We stepped outside into the bright California sun. A nurse was helping the former president with his lunch. He didn’t seem to notice either Nancy or me as we greeted him. After a short (and one-sided) conversation, Nancy asked me to lead in prayer—something I’d always done whenever I visited them, whether in Washington or California. Afterward, as Nancy was escorting me back to my car, I asked her, “Do you think he knew me?” She responded, “Not until you prayed—but hearing you then, I believe he knew who was praying for him.”

I have heard similar stories. An author recently told about watching her father suffer from the effects of dementia. He had not spoken in months and had not called her name. But just before he died, she took his hand and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. He spoke every word with her with clarity.

Watching helplessly as a loved one’s memory relentlessly fades must surely be one of life’s hardest burdens, and those who endure it deserve our compassion and prayers.

The occasional memory lapse, however, that comes to all of us with age isn’t serious; it only reminds us that we aren’t as young as we once were. At worst it may be mildly embarrassing; at best it may even be humorous. A few years ago I was being introduced at a reception by the host, a man about my age whom I had known for many years. He was recalling to the group how we had first met through a mutual