Words from WW Blog

It feels like I’m at the airport in Dallas on my way to Orlando. I’m no longer where I was, but I’m not quite where I’ll end up being. That’s what it feels like to be a 70-year-old substitute-teaching, basketball-coaching, novel-writing youth minister. I’m on my way to oldness, but I’m not quite there yet.

I used to have a pretty good jump shot. Now I just have a pretty good shot with two feet still firmly planted on the floor. I used to run miles around the school’s outdoor track. Now I walk a mile around the YMCA’s indoor track, which looks down on the young folk playing basketball in the gym below.

I used to craft a sermon each week for delivery on Sunday. Now I’m struggling once every two months to put all the pieces together in a way that makes sense.

It is a weird time being no longer young but not feeling like I’m quite far gone enough to be wrapped in a blanket with the footrest up and the remote control within easy reach. They say you’re as young as you feel. Somedays I feel about thirty, but other days my knees and hips tell me I’m a centenarian.

It prompts the question. Is the weirdness I ‘m feeling because it IS weird, or is it simply one of the feelings of being in the seventies-crowd? Which prompts another question that is wandering through my mind. What comes after the weirdness runs its course? Will I become a three-time a week pickle baller with a sour attitude or start wearing brown socks with khaki shorts and suspenders? When I’m eighty, if I get there, will it be even more weird than weird to still be working with young people, writing novels about middle and high school kids, and coaching basketball?

“Lord, guide me along the path of your will, even if it means I’m more weird than weird.”

This entry was posted on February 17, 2025 at 1:40 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.