She is 92 years old, petite, well poised, and proud. She is fully dressed
each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed, and her
makeup perfectly applied, in spite of the fact she is legally blind.
Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70 years recently
passed away, making this move necessary.
After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home,
where I am employed, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready.
As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual
description of her tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that had been
hung on her window.
"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just
been presented a new puppy.
"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room...just wait," I said.
Then she spoke these words that I will never forget: "That does not have
anything to do with it," she gently replied. "Happiness is something you
decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not, does not depend on
how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I have already
decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up.
I have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I
have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or I can get out of bed
and be thankful for the ones that do work. Each day is a gift, and as long
as my eyes open, I will focus on the new day and all of the happy memories
I have stored way...just for this time in my life. Old age is like a bank
account. You withdraw from what you have already put in.
each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed, and her
makeup perfectly applied, in spite of the fact she is legally blind.
Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70 years recently
passed away, making this move necessary.
After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home,
where I am employed, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready.
As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual
description of her tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that had been
hung on her window.
"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just
been presented a new puppy.
"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room...just wait," I said.
Then she spoke these words that I will never forget: "That does not have
anything to do with it," she gently replied. "Happiness is something you
decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not, does not depend on
how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I have already
decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up.
I have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I
have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or I can get out of bed
and be thankful for the ones that do work. Each day is a gift, and as long
as my eyes open, I will focus on the new day and all of the happy memories
I have stored way...just for this time in my life. Old age is like a bank
account. You withdraw from what you have already put in.
Thanks for posting this.
