Over the years, one of the basic truths that has been made clear to me is that I do not really "know" anyone. Scripture warned me, of course, that "no one knows the thoughts of a man except with spirit within the man," but I do not really even know the basics of most people's lives. In particular, this is true of older people.
Once upon a time, I knew a man, an older man, who was nearing 80 when I met him. He was not in bad shape "for someone nearing 80," but was not an impressive man. He was unable to read, because of a stroke suffered just a few years earlier. He was not a real "go-getter" in our terminology. He was quiet, embarrassed about being unable to read, passive in our church group.
To put it simply, he was "a nice old man." I am sure that is how the young people saw him. He was never funny and did not tell jokes or cut up. He was just a nice, quiet, old man. He often fell asleep during sermons.
And he was one of the smartest, most successful men I have ever met.
When he was younger, you see, he had been an engineer. He had been in charge of a large portion of the underwater warfare research work at Keyport, Washington, in his young days. He had planned and helped to plan US submarine warfare tactics in the Cold War. He had traveled often to the Pentagon for seminars on such war issues.
He was also an educator. He was head of the local school board for many years (people would show me his signature on their diplomas). He worked hard in local politics and was instrumental in building up and protecting his community.
He was a faithful husband to a godly wife, hosting youth gatherings and taking young people to events over the years, even though he was not a Christian at the time. But his wife was and he loved her so much that he joined in all that she did.
Even when I met him, his life was filled with work. He had a pit in his garage so he could bring in cars and work on them, taking care of the cars of multiple widows in our area so they would not have to worry about them. He took his riding lawn mower around every week to mow their lawns, so they would not have to pay anyone to do it.
But, when I met him, he was a quiet, kindly, old man who fell asleep in sermons. He could not read. He was converted savingly after the death of his wife and, at his funeral, I met dozens of people whose lives he had touched over the years. He was a good man, a far better man than I would ever have expected just meeting him at church.
It helps to be reminded that the people we meet are not, ever, what we think they are when we meet them. They have lives and hopes and fears and struggles and triumphs we cannot know, until they (or others) tell us. Now, every time I meet an older person, I have to wonder who they were, in their youths. I am almost always surprised when I find out.
Once upon a time, I knew a man, an older man, who was nearing 80 when I met him. He was not in bad shape "for someone nearing 80," but was not an impressive man. He was unable to read, because of a stroke suffered just a few years earlier. He was not a real "go-getter" in our terminology. He was quiet, embarrassed about being unable to read, passive in our church group.
To put it simply, he was "a nice old man." I am sure that is how the young people saw him. He was never funny and did not tell jokes or cut up. He was just a nice, quiet, old man. He often fell asleep during sermons.
And he was one of the smartest, most successful men I have ever met.
When he was younger, you see, he had been an engineer. He had been in charge of a large portion of the underwater warfare research work at Keyport, Washington, in his young days. He had planned and helped to plan US submarine warfare tactics in the Cold War. He had traveled often to the Pentagon for seminars on such war issues.
He was also an educator. He was head of the local school board for many years (people would show me his signature on their diplomas). He worked hard in local politics and was instrumental in building up and protecting his community.
He was a faithful husband to a godly wife, hosting youth gatherings and taking young people to events over the years, even though he was not a Christian at the time. But his wife was and he loved her so much that he joined in all that she did.
Even when I met him, his life was filled with work. He had a pit in his garage so he could bring in cars and work on them, taking care of the cars of multiple widows in our area so they would not have to worry about them. He took his riding lawn mower around every week to mow their lawns, so they would not have to pay anyone to do it.
But, when I met him, he was a quiet, kindly, old man who fell asleep in sermons. He could not read. He was converted savingly after the death of his wife and, at his funeral, I met dozens of people whose lives he had touched over the years. He was a good man, a far better man than I would ever have expected just meeting him at church.
It helps to be reminded that the people we meet are not, ever, what we think they are when we meet them. They have lives and hopes and fears and struggles and triumphs we cannot know, until they (or others) tell us. Now, every time I meet an older person, I have to wonder who they were, in their youths. I am almost always surprised when I find out.
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