I came across this while looking for information on the treatment of left-handers during medieval times. This isn’t from the page I found, which seems to be quite old and simplistically designed, but I thought the sentiment quite useful to memorialize.
Consider this a very public bookmarking; done so you might judge for yourself if the sentiment is worthy of a moment of your time . . . retrospectively, I realize but, well, what can I say? So sue me.
… A Prayer by a 17th century Nun
“Lord — Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am
growing older and will someday be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on
every subject on every occasion.
Release me from 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 free 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 gets sweeter as the time goes by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others pains…
but help me endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory,
but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness
when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonable sweet.
I do not want to be a saint…
some of them are so 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 talent in unexpected people.
And give me O Lord, the Grace to tell them so.”