In with the old, out with the gnu

I don't like old people



Yeah, I know, that's a horrible thing to say and whoever reads that is going to judge me, so go ahead. Judge away. Honesty is the best policy in my book.

It isn't really that I dislike people based on age alone (I'm sure everyone is so glad to know the criteria by which I judge people, one of my more flattering qualities); more so by the attitude and perspective with which they attack life. And most old people I've met have some of the worst attitudes I've ever come across, and the most depressing perspectives period.

"I wish I were that young again". "I remember the good old days when I could walk". "Now I'm old and fat, but I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted". "Your youth is wasted on you". "Enjoy your pretty tan and healthy body, it won't last forever".

And on. And on. And on. And it's freaking depressing, and my mom gets on me all the time for being negative about it, but seriously? How else do you expect me to be? It's not like I ever want to be in that place, where I can't move around anymore, spending my time wishing for something that's gone, and all I have left is to wait out the end of my life replaying memories of better times in my head and bitterly regretting that I aged. I don't want to not be able to run, start losing my ability to think well, and become dependent on people younger than me for help doing everyday tasks. It terrifies me, the thought of being left alone with nothing but memories and bitterness, being alive but not living.


So I needed some source of income this summer. Since I'm studying about 4 hours a day for the MCAT and start a morning summer II class in July; an actual job was out of the question. This is not a tangent, it ties in. Trust me. I put out the word for babysitting jobs, but, other than that, I couldn't think of anything else marketable about me. "Hi, I'm Alysa, I can water your yard, play with your dog, tell you about the amount of force generated in a gastroc contraction, or maybe the mechanics of your weird little gait you have going on there...oh yeah, I'm a senior in college just, you know, lookin' for money..."...

No.

I should have known that asking the Lord to provide a job was a dangerous thing to do. I should have just kept my mouth shut and hope babysitting jobs got me through. But nooooooo. Had to go and ask. Had to do it.


This is the conversation that took place in our house a week ago:
Mom: "Oh by the way, I knew you said you'd be willing to do anything to make some money, so I found you a job..."
Me: Oh...ok, cool, what is it?
Mom: There's a lady who needs help cleaning her house for an estate sale, I said you'd be willing to help out until the job is done
Me: Oh, you said yes...ok...a lady....like an old lady?
*At this point my mom's attitude became noticeably ruder and I think the temperature of the earth dropped a few degrees Kelvin *
Mom (tersely): Yes, she's old.
*I've gotten smart over the years, and know when to shut my mouth around my mom. Sometimes, I employ that little technique. This was one of those times*
Me: Great. Awesome. Thanks mom, just...uh, give me her number and I'll....*gulp*...call her.


The person I dreaded most is now embodied by the woman I work for. She's old, and sad, and bitter, and wistful. She has many grievances with life, and has already enumerated many of them to me through a grimace that twists up her kind little face into an unrecognizable sneer. She's racist, and regretful, and has enough sorrow that makes me wonder if she walks bent over because her back is no longer strong, or because her soul is too heavy to know any other way. She's got pain-and a story-and before it's all over, I am going to experience both of those things.
Because that's why I'm working for her. God could have made enough families that need a babysitter contact me so that any other work was unnecessary. He could have provided a neighbor whose house needed a paint job. He could have brought a few people that needed paperwork done around their house. He could have provided lawns to mow.

 He didn't though. He gave me someone I dislike being around because they depress me; someone I have thus far tried to avoid, someone who represents something I deeply fear. And He's going to show me why my fear is unfounded because He is the giver of abundant life-not wasted life. He is the bringer of joy, not despair. I'm going to learn what it means to become less afraid of life, and of time, and perhaps how to love people better. And instead of $10 an hour, I'm going to be paid in a far more valuable currency named experience and wisdom and insight. And maybe humility as well.


God is going to sharpen me this summer, and I'm going to learn. Annette Elaine is going to teach me. And I'd be lying if I said I was excited about it, but I am thankful. Because there's life in learning.


And I thought school was out for the summer. Psh.