Lord, keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from the craving 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 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 love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others but help me to listen to them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory but a growing humility and 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 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 places and talents in unexpected places. Give me the grace to tell them so.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Growing old can be a frightening thing. We worry about what we will be like in the years ahead. We hope to be wise and gentle and kind and loving. The only way to be that way as an old person, though, is to strive to live that way as a young person.

"Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, 'I have no pleasure in them.'" (Eccl. 12:1)