by erika haveman
Most of you know I’m a youth ministry person through and through. I have absolutely loved getting to walk with several youth (if you’ve been one of my youth and you’re reading this, you can know that I’m beyond grateful for all you’ve allowed me to see in you!) Recently, though, I’ve found myself drawn to a very different crowd: senior citizens.
For the past few years I’ve made friends with quite a few people well past retirement age. I think it started when I worked at a cafe and my regulars in the mornings were all people I could consider my grandparents. They always had quirky stories to share and knew how to make me laugh. They would always distract me from my work and never quite know when to stop talking. I embraced this about them and I felt like they made me a more patient, kind, and loving person.
Summer 2017 I again found myself drawn to several older people that I met who were working on the YWAM base for the summer. They were beyond being empty nesters and more the kind of birds that fly south for the winter. Any time I would eat a meal in the cafeteria on the YWAM base I would insist on sitting with my wise old owl type friends. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was I loved about them so much until I read a post on Instagram around mid October of 2017.
The post was talking about how seniors had taken time to invest in and listen to my friend’s 11 year old daughter. Her daughter had shared that the older women she was surrounded by made her feel so special, and “not just any kind of special, like really special.” My friend’s caption continued to share that a “90 year old saint let my girl know she matters!”
As I read that line it suddenly struck me why I love people often twice or almost three times my age: they have a knack for making me feel like I matter. How do they do that? I believe it’s simple conversation.
Never once while I’ve talked to anybody over the age of 45 have I found the conversation in a lull that was desperately seeking a new topic.
Lately I’ve run into a wall with people around my own age. I find we struggle to make conversation. It’s not just a matter of the room being full of introverts who need a quiet space to think. I’ve noticed that I’ll carry a topic so far and nobody will continue it. I’ll share a story and nobody will have a story of their own to add. I’ll ask a question and get a simple answer with new rebound query.
Seniors don’t function this way because they were raised to make conversation. They didn’t get one way validation from Instagram. They didn’t shoot a text message and had to wait for responses. They weren’t entertained by never ending hours of Netflix. They did life with other people because that’s what life was. The central way of being social was to in fact socialize, face to face, in real life, being physically present with one another.
When I’m talking with a senior I can always count on learning from them. The Bible calls us to live as iron sharpens iron with each other (Proverbs 27:17). This comes so naturally to people generations older than myself. I always know they’ll have a story of life experience that accompanies their wisdom. They are curious about who I am, what I do, and constantly wonder why I’m not married – but in a very endearing and encouraging sort of way. They genuinely make me feel noticed and cared for. Maybe this is why I feel like a grandma so much of the time. I’m definitely far from being perfect, but I’d much rather sit and have coffee and conversation then scroll through Facebook status’ or the insights section on instagram (is that what it’s called? I can’t say I even know). I find no pleasure in watching stories on Snapchat, though I admittedly have wasted more time on there. Scanning to see who has “liked” or even “loved” my latest uploads to Facebook or Insta has become an empty satisfaction. I keep social media around because it’s a way to stay in touch with friends around the world. It’s certainly a platform to be used for good, but I think I’ve really started to see the trend of it stealing joy from human relationships.
What if our lives were more about being curious, in real life, about people’s lives than seeing what someone has posted on Instagram? What if I shared my photos with people I knew cared about me, rather than hoping that someone new might notice some hidden talent I have for choosing the best filter? Maybe I don’t know people care about me, which is why I seek that recognition through social media’s many platforms.
What is it that enables me to my generation as opposed to endorse true relationship and genuine conversations? What if sought to know as opposed to be known? I think if I worked hard to know others than eventually that desire to know in return would surface and we could get back to the golden days all of my senior friends still seem to live in. The days of constant conversation when there was no fear that silence would happen because someone always knew how to keep the crowd engaged. If I want those days back I need to be the catalyst. So I’m going to keep acting like grandma in hopes that my young friends will see the value that seniors have to offer. Hopefully we’ll all look up from our smartphones and be the ones to initiate real life relationship with people around us.
the rambling missionary 