I wrote a letter

I ask you not to grow old. I can't decide how old to get without growing old. I would do you wrong if I limited myself to asking you to “age well”. I really don't want to grow old at all.

Among other things, it seems to me that remaining young is the surest form of fidelity to the gift of life. So, dear Lord, I don't want to grow old.

Let me be of my time and not of my age, morbidly attached to ideas, but frequently check their validity. Help me not take myself seriously.

Let me look sympathetically at what others are doing especially if they try something I hadn't thought of.

That I know how to understand more than judge. Appreciate rather than condemn.

Encourage rather than distrust. Let me understand that what I do today is important, not what I did ten years ago and that others have the right to have from me what I am, not what I was.

Teach me to understand that life always starts new and different every day.

Dear Lord, let me trust my imagination more than experience: the latter is linked to tiredness and resignation, and often, it is a reality that is convenient for it not to change, while with imagination one goes out to discover new possibility.