Silence is Golden: contrast.

there is a certain group of people who have always caught my eye. there is something about their increasingly fragile frames and graying hairs that pique my interest. they are everywhere...each carrying a story. each a witness to years far before mine. i am in awe at the history each of them represents. how many stories could they tell about how times have changed? how many fought in wars, grew victory gardens, raised children alone, drove horse-drawn vehicles, saw the beginning of technology or had a party line.

(My great grandparents and some of their children)

I see couples who have been together around a half a century. their love has grown.

Both of my grandpas have passed away, but I will never forget them as a couple with my grandmas. and my grandpas had some of the best stories! I will never forget how Grandpa K would tell how he came to Arizona and started hauling blocks which led to the successful business it is today.

Grampy could tell the same stories about the house fire in Ohio or working for the Phone company...and each time they were still as exciting to hear as the first. (and he could take you on a mean lion hunt)

And their faithful wives stood by their side for around 5 decades...loving them, praying for them, supporting them and caring for them until the end. These amazing couples raised children together, went on world travels, ministered and served others all side-by-side. Even when my grandpas had serious health problems...my grandmas both dedicated that season of their life to the care of their husbands.

and since both of their husbands have passed away, they have handled it with grace and are two of the strongest women I know because of it. I am grateful to have them as role models for women, wives and mothers.

the other day, I was working and saw the celebration of a man who had lived decades of life. and what stood out to me were his hands. they were big and gnarled, the wear and tear of life evident.

i was immediately taken back to my grandpa's bedside as he drew his last breaths. i was sitting there, tears filling my eyes as memories raced about my mind. I tried talking to him, but didn't know what to say. and all of the sudden, his hand reached through the the hospital bed rail, searching for mine. I didn't know what to do at first. i looked at my grandma and she said, "just hold his hand..." So I slowly placed my small, white, smooth hand in his large, sun-spotted, ridged and veiny hand. he immediately engulfed my hand with his and squeezed. he couldn't talk. didn't even open his eyes. but he heard my voice and wanted to be connected. But those hands...I will never get that picture out of my mind. How many flat tires had he fixed. How many times had he flipped the pages of a Bible or folded them in prayer. How many cuts and blood blisters were sustained because of hard work he did. how many times had he grabbed my own hand as we walked out the door somewhere... his voice echoed in my mind, "Here we go, Suzy and Joe!"

how do we pass by "elderly people" every day and pay them no mind? How come we get frustrated because they drive a bit slower or take longer in the check-out line. Why do we put them in nursing homes to be out of the way? I cherish the times I've spent with people years older than me who have shared stories and life. So much I never knew. Like walking history books...bringing to life all the textbook information I memorized in classes.

So I challenge you (as well as myself...) go find someone in your life who you take for granted. Someone who we would classify as "elderly" or "up in years." Talk to them. ask questions. spend time with them. I remember going to nursing homes with my mom and other kids and we'd sing for the people. After, we'd walk around and shake their hands. I never understood why they were so happy to see us...since we didn't know them. But they basked in the youth and the eagerness and freshness we brought.

I find myself brought to tears because soon the last person who fought in the World Wars will be gone.

Those who made it through the Great Depression.

Fighters during the Civil Rights movements.

Survivors of concentration camps.

people who connect us to life-changing events. I want to go and celebrate them all. thank them for what they've done to make our country and society what it is today. treat them with dignity and respect...because they deserve it.

Thank you for bearing with me as I wrote out those thoughts. It's been on my mind lately and I wanted to share.

here are some pictures of contrast. youth, innocence, years of life left to live... at it's best!