A simple beauty reflected in the face of the young woman in the old photograph that had been glued into a photo album. The album, tucked away for years, included pictures of many people, places and events that had long faded into history.

But there was no mistaking who the woman in the photo was. Even though the picture had been taken nearly 70 years earlier, there was still a distinct resemblance to the little old lady, who sat staring, really not at anything, but at everything.Bent with age and worn with years, the woman, who just passed her 88th birthday, is only a shadow of what she once was.

Outwardly, the harsh effects of old age are apparent: her body is thin and fragile; her walk is slow and deliberate; her face, wrinkled with the years, shows the hardships of life. Her speech is halting and she has a difficult time putting her thoughts to words; most of the time she can't complete a sentence. Her once jet-black hair has turned to a thin, snowy white.

Inwardly, however, age has even been more cruel. Her memory is fast failing, and she often has difficulty knowing her own family. Names and faces once so familiar are seldom remembered.

Now in the late winter of her life, she waits for her slumber from mortality into immortality.

But as she - and all the others in the same elderly condition - wait, the words of the psalmist, written centuries ago, seem so appropriate today:

"Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth." (Psalm 71:9.) Our aged are not throw-away people.

Aging is a natural process. Today, 10 percent of the Church membership in the United States and Canada is 60 or older; 5 percent is 70 or older and 1.5 percent is 80 or older. President N. Eldon Tanner once counseled, "People of all ages must realize that one day they could be old. . . ."

We must prepare for that day.

B ut when we see old people in the physical and mental conditions where seemingly they have outlived their usefulness, we may be tempted to ask why. Why can't they be permitted to be free from mortality and enter into their eternal rest? Why do they have to continue to live in such a condition where mind and body may no longer be functioning very well, if at all?

What lessons from mortality do they have yet to learn?

But, perhaps it is not they who have lessons to learn; perhaps it is we who need to learn something that can come as we care for our aged.

Whether we give that care in our own homes or see that it is provided in a professional care facility, we could well be recipients of some choice blessings in our lives.

Who is it that would not develop meekness and gentleness in caring for an aged mother? Who is it that would not develop patience in serving the needs of an elderly father? Old age may bring with it infirmities that are best treated with a lot of patience, kindness and gentleness.

Are these not Christ-like attributes that we need to obtain if we are to become like our Heavenly Father?

W ho is it that would not develop an increased measure of charity - the pure love of Christ - in caring for a dependent parent or grandparent?

"Charity," Moroni wrote, "suffereth long, and is kind . . . beareth all things . . . endureth all things." (Moroni 7:45.) As we develop the capacity to bear the burdens of our elderly and endure with them the trials they are suffering, we also develop a Christ-like love in our own lives.

Is not this the type of love the Savior commanded us to strive for? "This is my commandment," He said, "That ye love one another, as I have loved you." (John 15:12.)

Yes, we do have an obligation to care for our aged. President Spencer W. Kimball, in speaking to bishops, put it this way: "Remind your people that they should take care of their fathers and mothers, no matter if they do become senile, no matter if they do become difficult to handle. They should be taken care of; that is a part of the program of the Lord established when He first organized this world." (The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, page 348.)

We must remember that a loving Heavenly Father is the master architect of us all. Our lives are in His hands. In general conference last October, President Ezra Taft Benson said, "The Lord knows and loves the elderly among His people."

God is the one who has the right to determine the seasons of our lives. (See Eccl. 3:1.) If that season extends into "winter" for our loved ones, then as we provide love and nurturing care, we shall also be receivers as well as givers.