Read this with deep thought.

‘Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I’m growing older, and will someday be old. Keep me form getting too talkative, particularly from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Deliver me from the need to try and straighten everybody’s affairs. Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me the wings to get to the point. I ask for the grace to listen to the tales of other’s pains but seal my lips when it comes to my own aches and pains, for they are increasing and my love for rehearsing them gets sweater as the years go by. I ask not for improved memory, but for growing humility and less cocksuckness, especially when my own memory seem to clash with that of others. Teach me that occasionally I may be mistaken. Keep me reasonably sweet. I don’t necessarily want to be a saint, some of them are hard to live with. But a sour old woman (or man) is only the growing work of the devil. Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it. But thou knowest lord, I want a few friends at the end. So give me, I pray, the ability to see blessing in an expected trails and goodness in less than perfect people. And give me the grace to tell them so in Christ name, Amen
Courtesy GSAF.