Playful, Pius or Remembered Stuff

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Saturday, July 7, 2012

About being the old guy

Getting old is no job for cowards.

Every day I take 12 pills for various conditions.  Presumably I need to take them to keep me alive, and if that is the case, I guess they are working.  Sometimes, half in jest, I am heard to say, "I'm sure if I stop taking them I would feel better.  But I would probably die."  Of course, when Jesus has reserved a place for me in glory, I can safely joke about this.  But somehow God has built into us a sense of self preservation that keeps us from stepping in front of the bus, even if we are certain of heaven.

When I am working in the kitchen, I say to myself, "don't drop any of those zucchini slices on the floor.  They are so much trouble to bend over and retrieve."  Often that thought is quickly followed by the dreaded event itself.  This creates a strong temptation for profanity, and then a minor depression sets in because I have just displayed my retarded sanctification.

And, speaking of those pills, it is an increasing aggravation to open "child proof" medicine bottles.  Some of them defy a breach of their security.  At least my nitroglycerin pills don't come in that kind of bottle.  I think my great grandchildren could open my medicine bottles, if it comes to the need of outside help.  When you get old, you need to learn how to gulp down a handful of pills with a little water.  If you add vitamins to that number, then we are talking about 20 or more pills, and some of them are giant footballs.  Younger folks have been known to stare in wide-eyed wonder as I gulp down this plethora of capsules.

Now and again there are perks for being an old duck.  Great grandchildren are those kind of perks.  Even though I can't handle the three-year-olds for more than a couple of hours, they are so fun that it is worth the collapse that puts me in my chair for the remainder of the day.

We like to watch old episodes of Matlock or Murder She Wrote, and even though we remember enough to know that we have seen it before, we get the pleasure of watching them again because we don't remember who done it.

We seem to be very busy, but never accomplish much in the same amount of time.  It is a major effort to plant a dozen marigolds.  I have begun to sandpaper the gate, and even though I have an electric sander, it will be a long project.  Just a few boards each day.  Well, something like that.

I find myself sleeping for 8 hours at night.  I never got that much in my younger days (and didn't need it).  Though I can remember as a small boy, fighting with my mother or my auntie when they tried to coax me to take a nap.  I was constantly bouncing around on the bed.  I was bored, but not sleepy.  Now a nap is a wonderful way to spend an afternoon hour.

We're wearing out.  In point of fact we are condemned to die.  God told Adam that the day he ate the forbidden fruit he would die.  And so he did.  And so did I.  We are like cut flowers.  They look beautiful in the bucket of water at the florist's.  They make a sweet bouquet to present to someone we love, but that biological fact is: they are dead.  They are cut off from the source of life, and it is only a matter of time before we see them fade, turn color and shrivel.

That is also the case with us.  The difference is simply that the flower's span of beautiful display is much briefer than is ours.  But just as certainly as cut flowers, we too will fade, turn color and shrivel.  It is only those who know they have a faithful Savior who can see humor in these things, because they are only temporary problems.  Jesus said, "Because I live, you shall live also."


  1. What shall I cry? "All flesh is grass."

    Thank you, pastor. :)

  2. I love your posts. You should be syndicated.