The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.
She said, "Hi, handsome! My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old . . . Can I give you a hug?"
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and she gave me a giant squeeze.
"Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?" I asked. She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a couple of children, then retire and travel."
No, seriously," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.
"I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm earning one!" she told me.
After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake. We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "time machine" as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.
Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and easily made friends wherever she went. She reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was really "living it up".
At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet; I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three-by-five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed, Rose leaned into the microphone and simply said, "I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! And I'll never get my cards back in order so let me just tell you what I know."
As we laughed, she cleared her throat and began. "We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success: "You have to laugh and find humor every day."
"You've got to have a dream...when you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!"
"There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are 19 years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything, I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability."
"The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change."
"Have no regrets. The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets."
She concluded her speech by courageously singing "The Rose" (that verse is listed below) She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and to live them out in our daily lives.
At year's end, Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you are meant to be!
So get going!!!
The Rose
Lyrics by Amanda McBroom
Some say love, it is a river,
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor,
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say Love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed.
It's the heart afraid of breaking,
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking,
That never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dyin',
That never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely,
And the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember, that in the winter,
Far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed, that with a sun's love
In the spring becomes...
The Rose
|
