My dear God, you know I am growing oldKeep me from becoming too talkative, from repeating all my jokes and anecdotes, and particularly keep from falling into the tiresome habit of expressing an opinion on every subject.Release me from craving to straighten out everyone’s affairs.Keep my mind free from recital of endless details.
Give me wings to get to the point.Give me the grace, dear God, to listen to others as they describe their aches and pains.Help me end the boredom with patience and keep my lips sealed, for my own aches and pains are increasing in number and intensity, and the pleasure of discussing them as becoming sweeter as the years go by.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I might be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet. I don’t wish to be a saint (saints are so hard to live with), but a sour person is the work of the devil.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody, helpful, but not pushy, independent, yet able to accept with graciousness favours others wish to bestow on me.
Free me of the notion that simply because I have lived a long time, I am wiser than those who haven’t lived so long. I am older, but not necessarily wiser!If I don’t approve of some of the changes that have taken place in recent years, give me the wisdom to keep my mouth shut.
God, please know that when the end comes, I would like to have a friend or two left.