With Just One More Surprise

I was holding it together until Amanda's pure voice came from behind and Mary wept and i was surprised by the sadness i felt. the passion was finished the night before and then she came the next morning to find her friend gone. the emptiness was overwhelming for her and we just sat there wanting to go to her to tell her it's all going to be alright, and then He appeared. she called Him "Teacher." I've always wondered at that. Teacher. What exactly did He teach Mary then, and what did that moment teach us? Could it be that with the retelling of this passion that He continues to teach us just through story?

Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp. We went there, the four of us. My older daughter experiencing her first week of camp - the first time away from mom and dad for more than just a weekend spent with grandma. Our youngest just hung around with the two of us (joe and i) - she played mostly in the sandbox and went through outfits like mad. I spent most of the time observing the energy of that place. Gradeschool children to college graduates all mingling together in fellowship and fun. I think learning from each other. I kept thinking of the time that i was their age(s) - having that kind of energy. Now it seems that just watching made me tired... and that somehow i was no longer able to relate. Now i was that old person who was just there and perhaps a little in the way. I was the person that they dreaded becoming. Oh, man, i can't imagine being that old sort of thoughts.

We were talking about that one night in Hagen Hall and Steve said that "old" keeps changing for him... it was always about 15 years older than he currently is. But, he added that he doesn't find it too hard to imagine being 75 and thought maybe he should change his definition. I thought maybe i should try to come up with my own definition of "old." Basically because somehow I don't feel old and yet, somehow i do. I'm conflicted within myself.

So, i've been bumbling around with thought of story, and learning, and youth, and maturity, and haven't been really able to formulate any particular thoughts other then this:

I dont' ever want to be too old to learn from story telling.
I don't ever want to be too old to enjoy the energy of the younger generations.
I don't ever want to be too old to think of myself as unable to relate.
I don't ever want to be too old to be surprised.

What to do about this? Stay young? People have said that you're only as old as you think you are, or how you feel, or something like that... the only time i really feel old is when my knees don't want to carry me up that hill, or when i realize that i just can't run anymore, or when i realize that my parents are in their late 60's and early 70's and i remember when she was 29 and when he turned 40.

I feel young when i look around the church and see people who have been married for 60 years, when i play board games with my children, when i go to camp and can laugh and sing and clap my hands with praise. When i giggle at Justice Man man man. When i still get butterflies when my husband looks at me a certain way and grins. When i can't help but cry with Mary at the emptiness she faced. When i smiled at her surprise when she realized it was Him and when she called out "Teacher."

Maybe i just shouldn't worry about this. Maybe I should keep listening to stories, and keep telling my own. Maybe I should just take to heart that verse in I Was There To Hear Your Borning Cry... "In the middle ages of your life, not too old, no longer young, I'll be there to guide you throught the night, complete what I've begun. Whe the evening gently closes in and you shut your weary eyes, I'll be there as I have always been with just one more surprise..."