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LORD, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older,
and will someday be old.Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking
I must say something for every occassion. Release me from
craving to try to straighten out everybody's affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody: helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all,
but thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details.

Give me wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips on my aches and pains.
They are increasing and the love of rehearsing
them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy tales
of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility
and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash
with the memory of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint -
some of them are so hard to live with but a sour old person
is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected people.
Give me the grace to tell them so.

-Elisabeth H. Steake, La Jolla
Christmas, 1989

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D.U.O Project
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