(The following is edited from a 17^thcentury nun’s prayer.  I thought it was worth sharing.)

Lord thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday actually be old.  With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest, Lord, that I want to still have a few friends at the end, so I send you this prayer.

Release me, Lord, from my craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.  

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.  Keep me free from the recital of endless details.  Give me wings to get to the point.

Make me thoughtful, but not moody.  Seal my lips on my aches and pains but give me the patience to endure the tales of other’s pains.  

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.  I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.

I don’t want to be a Saint – they can be so hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.  So I ask Lord that you give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places – and talents in unexpected people.  And give me the grace to tell them so.

Amen