I’m a flurry of movement, fumbling to get my things in and out of my locker so that I can pick the kids up from the nursery in time. These ladies are in no rush. They look each other in the eyes. They sit for a few minutes just to chat–swapping recipes, lamenting the loss of a(nother) friend, excitedly informing the group about a new housecleaning product, updating each other on what the kids, grandkids, and great grandkids are up to. When they don’t have something to tell, they’re comfortable in the silence.
The water aerobics ladies are usually gathering their things to head out for the day when I come back to the locker room to shower. The lockers are arranged in horseshoes with benches, and my locker happens to be in the same horseshoe as one particular circle of friends. Their average age is probably 80. Most wear orthopedic shoes with white ankle socks. Their floral button-ups and pastel capris are neatly pressed. They move slowly, deliberately, without any self-consciousness.
I’m struck by how they migrate from place to place. Some have walkers. One has a cane. Some limp. Another can barely lift her feet and has to shuffle. One has a back that sticks sideways nearly ninety degrees from her hip. She smiles the most.
When they collectively decide it’s time to go, everyone plays a part. The ladies take turns requesting and offering help. Lifting, zipping, holding, carrying, fetching. They ask for help so plainly, so confidently, so lackadaisically. It’s as if they don’t realize the treasure they have in each other. I suppose it’s because they’ve all needed help, given help, and readily accepted help at different times. They don’t see anything unusual or extraordinary about it. These locker room exchanges are a microcosm of the support they’ve been for each other in their lives beyond the locker room walls.
A pair was leaving the locker room last week when the words escaped my mouth. “What good friends you have! You ladies are so lucky to have each other.”
They were caught off guard for a moment. They smiled and looked at each other. One hobbled ahead while the other looked at me. She said, “You know, you’re right. We really are.”
I hope I’m blessed enough to become an old locker room lady. Certainly, old age comes with its own crosses. What stage of life doesn’t have a cross? But what a treasure it would be to just be with my friends, family, and everyone I encounter. In this chapter of doing, doing, doing, I know I forget to just be. I suppose that’s how we start and end life, huh? We bring joy just by being as babies. Then, we get so determined to be independent and self-sufficient that we can forget about why we’re doing any of this in the first place. It takes us a lifetime to remember to be, to receive, to allow another’s presence to be all that we need.
Lord, make me a better friend. Help me to allow myself to just be. Help me remember that it is a gift to be able to ask for help, to receive, to allow others to give. There’s no reason I have to wait until I become an old locker room lady.
“A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter:
he that has found one has found a treasure.
There is nothing so precious as a faithful friend,
and no scales can measure his excellence.
A faithful friend is an elixir of life;
and those who fear the Lord will find him.”
Sirach 6:14-16
