My current writing and Facebook’s flashback feature leads me to rerun a Hole News post. First time. I have a bunch of new friends since the first posting, and I can’t say better what needs to be said:
It’s curious to watch yourself grow old. Once I skipped from rock to rock on a trout stream. This morning I moved about my kitchen handhold to handhold, aware that one miss would put me down for the count. Proverbs 16:18 records what goes before a fall.
No haughty spirit for me. I embrace my wheeled walker, cane, and handholds. When the walker isn’t practical, I turn to the cane. When the cane alone won’t do, the Girl in 313 lends her arm. My life is simpler, plainer, and filled with joy.
I remember so well the years of walking willy-nilly, compromising family time and primary duty to walk into stuff beyond my pay scale. Because I could do something didn’t mean I should. Now retirement allows me to choose what makes tired. I indulge quiet think-time, play-time, and rest time, no longer equating busy with spiritual.
As a professional God-server (called full-time ministry) I gave far too much time to meetings doing work that properly belonged to an individual or committee. Now, in retirement, I remain under orders but I never know what they are. I sit back and watch Philippians 2:13 unfold. .
I guess I filled my God-serving days reasonably well, but on the grand scale, I didn’t count for diddly. Though bent on serving God, he sought a servant heart. To gain that heart, we must die, take up our cross, like Jesus. Pour over Luke 9:23.
People Jesus Met on His Way Somewhere Else is a book I never got to write. It guides me on my way, handhold to handhold, with a dear Friend, who lends an arm when I need it.
Older Grandpa Lloyd