I’ve had two recent episodes of seeing the past, present, and future me all at the same time. Last weekend was the most recent experience, and it was Volunteer-Me I was seeing. A couple of weeks earlier, it was Workout-Me.
In each case, I wondered if I needed to tell the younger me something or if I needed to get advice from the older me? Looking back on it, I wonder if I am just supposed to be “in the moment”? Whatever the case, I confess that in these situations, I feel like my brain has been scrambled, and I wonder if this is a new stage I am in at the ripe old age of 73?
Last week’s experience started at my temple’s sabbath service and culminated the next day when I visited a friend in Assisted Living. During the service, the Temple’s new Board of Trustees was installed. Instead of a sermon, we heard the parting words of the woman finishing her two-year term at the helm. Of course, Gayle spoke of the congregation’s challenges and successes during her term, but she also spoke on a more personal level.
With her family in the audience, she gave an emotional thank you to her mother in whose footsteps she had followed — both women having served as President of the congregation. And then she acknowledged her husband and kids telling them there is only so much time in the day and by giving some of her time to the temple, it necessarily meant she gave less time to them. She thanked them for their understanding.
I was equally emotional in hearing her words because they smacked of the words I spoke more than a decade ago — on that same altar — as I stepped down as the Temple’s Sisterhood President. It felt like it was me up there at the podium.
My favorite part of Gayle’s remarks had to do with a Jewish prayer called the Shehecheyanu. It thanks God for keeping us alive, sustaining us, and bringing us to the current, happy season. Having grown up in the Temple and having experienced many life cycle events there, she added the evening to the long list of Shehecheyanu moments she has had in her life. That the evening also marked our senior rabbi’s retirement after forty years of leadership — and involvement in her life — made her remarks even more moving.
The next day, I visited a woman who is a couple decades older than I am. I’ll call her Betty. I know Betty from my days of being Sisterhood President. She was one of my board members. As we chatted about a thousand things, I told her that the previous evening had been the rabbi’s last. In return, she told me about the day forty years ago when she was volunteering at the Temple, and in walked this handsome young man in jeans and a plaid shirt — who just happened to be the new rabbi. These bookend events — and forty years going by in the blink of an eye — what am I to make of that?
And here’s another thought from the visit. Betty is setting a great example for future-me on how to adjust to Assisted Living. Of course, she would rather be at home, but with limited mobility, she realizes she cannot and accepts it without complaint. That’s a great takeaway! But here is a scary one: We all worry about the day when driving is not a possibility, but what about the day when walking is problematic?
This is the perfect segue to another past-present-future experience. It happened a couple of weeks ago at Lifetime Fitness as I walked out of my yoga class. I saw a woman of about 40 who looked like me! Well actually, she looked like I looked at that age, 30-ish years ago. I thought to myself: What advice would I like to give that version of me?” And equally I thought: “Should I stop this look-alike-gal and tell her a thing or two about life?”
Chuckling over the thought of being some sort of guru, I walked toward the steps to get from the second-floor yoga studio to the gym’s first floor exit. There’s an elevator next to the stairs but of course I was taking the steps, I was there for exercise! So, when I saw a woman get on the elevator, I scoffed a bit, pitying that poor old lady who couldn’t walk down steps. But then as I walked down the stairs, I watched still another woman walking in front of me — and struggling a lot with the endeavor. Between those two first-floor-aiming ladies, I saw my future aging process. How cocky I had been just moments ago. How deflated then.
So, looking at the Temple and gym experiences, I wonder: Is this what aging is? A stark realization — with reminders everywhere — that I used to be this and soon I’m going to be that? And oh my, how quickly the years go by. In the blink of an eye!
Contemplating this reality, and emulating both Betty and Gayle, I whisper a Shehecheyanu as I settle into the present moment. Amen.
