When I Grow Up

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In late 1988 (more from “The Vapor”) a folk singer named Michelle Shocked released a single called “When I Grow Up.” Since she was “home grown” (from Texas, where I was raised… mostly), we heard a lot of the song in Fort Worth. At the time, I thought it had a pretty solid groove, and a unique perspective, but at the same time a little quirky.

Here are the lyircs:

When I grow up I want to be an old woman
When I grow up I want to be an old woman
Oh, an old, an old, old woman

Then I think I’m gonna find myself an old man
Then I think I’m gonna marry myself that old man
An old, an old, an old, an old, a really old man

We’re gonna have a hundred and twenty babies
A hundred and five, ten, fifteen, twenty babies
Uh huh, that’s what I said a hundred and twenty babies

We’ll raise ’em on tiger’s milk and green bananas
Mangoes and coconuts and watermelon
We’re gonna give ’em that watermelon when they starts yellin’
Here’s what they’ll yell…

In the summer we’ll sit in a field and watch the sun melt
In the winter we’ll sit by a fire and watch the moon freeze
Me my old man and a hundred and twenty babies
Me my old man and a hundred and twenty babies
I said, me my old man and a hundred and twenty babies
Oh, when I grow up I want to be an old woman
When I grow up I want to be an oooooold…

Pretty cool.

Now, as I stare down a 49th year walking this planet, I’ve been thinking a bit about this song, and I hear it a little differently now. The lyric asks me questions now that I’m not sure I heard 30 odd years ago.

When I hear the song now I think about how being an “old woman” (or in my case, an old man) is so much more than an age:

Now I think about elders. 

More specifically, I wonder two things:

  1. Are people willing to seek out the wisdom of the elders?
  2. Where are all of our elders?

But here’s the deal: Question 1 is a bit out of my control, and frankly I’m just not that interested today in “complaining about the young generation”.

So, older people, I’m talking to US today.

Are we aspiring to be ELDERS? 

(For clarity, I’m not talking here about a position in a church. I’m using the term in a more global, traditional sense, of men and women who have…

… walked the paths of life

… probably fallen down once or twice (or 14 times)

… chosen to grow beyond their own egos and agendas

… (and consequently) have walked the road to die to themselves

… have begun the journey to separate from their earthly concerns and choose the peace that comes from detached loveing

… understand that life is more about what you can give than what you get…

THAT kind of “elder”.)

So, yeah, that’s what I’m wondering. The older I get, the more I look around me and wonder, “Where are the elders?”

I’ve been blessed to stumble across a handful here and there, but make no mistake, there are a lot of people out there who, even as the decades fall away behind them, are deciding not to grow up and be “an old woman/man.”

(And without going on another rant, our culture really doesn’t help much to discourage this resistance… Sometimes it seems that if you choose to remain immature and bound to your ego, and your agendas and small-self concerns well into your 60s, 70s or even 80s(!), then there’s an APP or a 24-hour news cycle or an echo chamber that will help you do that.)

But for me, the cost is too high. I think that I’m with Michelle on this one: “When I grow up I want to be an old man.”

The cost is just too high. I’d rather have the peace. I’d rather have the contentment. I’d rather have the patience. Maybe that would help someone younger; but that’s not up to me. What I can control is my availability to God and those closest to me.

God, make me an elder.

 

As usual… thanks for commenting and sharing …

 

 

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3 thoughts on “When I Grow Up

  1. Give it away give it away give it away now! Great thoughts my friend. From the other side of 40 I can say I’ve been feeling the same. Ready to give away what I’ve learned, embrace my age, and listen for who God may be calling me to be an “elder” to. Onwards!

  2. I look forward to having carried my cross faithfully long enough to be able to bear this word with humility and integrity. I’m thankful for my youth and for much of what Solomon advises in Ecclesiastes to pay attention to during these years, however, I hope that even as a “young” person, I can live with the eyes of an old soul. There’s so much to “look at” nowadays that I get bewildered to the point where I have to focus on surrendering my “sight” to God so that I can truly see. Somedays it’s like asking Him, “Abba, I’ve seen too much through my own eyes…will you make me blind so that You can give me sight again? Your sight? Even with my own sight I don’t know how to see.” Oh, to be a blind, old man touched by the mercy of Jesus…to carry that kind of revelation.

    • Beautiful thoughts, Sydney … Maybe we are all “blind, old men touched by the mercy of Jesus” … and we just need to realize/remember it. Blessings.

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