Posted tagged ‘Old age’
May 10, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. May 10, 2017
I have nicknames for many of the students I substitute teaching for. I’ve been in their classrooms enough that having a Mr. Wolfe-created nickname is a badge of honor…sorta’!
Bryson has become Bison, Marina gets called Marinara, Alex is Arby’s, Josh with his man-bun is “Pimple Head”, Jonah has become “Goat” (His choice! He says it is an acronym for “Greatest of all the rest!” I pointed out to him that the acronym would then be “Goatr!” He gives me a blank look…like a goat!)
I rattle off group nicknames also, like “Fruit Loops”, “Munchkins”, and “Space Cadets.”
Evidently, turn about is fair play, because a day of subbing in 7th Grade Science produced a new nickname for the teach!
Back in my high school days I was nicknamed “Beowulf” when my sophomore English class was studying the old story. “Bill Wolfe”… “Beowulf”…it stuck to me like a fly on a fly strip. In due time it got shortened to simply “Beo.” People I went to high school 45 years ago…no, it can’t be that long!…still call me “Beo.”
On this day of science discovery a new name was delivered my way. As my first class began trudging into the portable classroom of my friend, Ronnie McKinney (whose uncreative nickname is “McKinney!”), the pre-bell chatter began. One of the students who I had nicknamed “Abnormal” (Abigail is her real name) asked me how tall I was. I responded with “5’6” and 1/2.” Then I added, with a note of pride, “However, I used to be 5’8”!”
“So you’ve shrunk?”
“Unfortunately!”
Another young lady who I nicknamed “Camm-ay” (from Cammie), saying her name like she’s French, joined in the conversation. Since I refer to her as “Camm-ay”, she calls me “Wolf-ay!”
“Wolf-ay! You’ve shrunk?”
Another young lady, Ky-lay joins in. “Like a grape!” Wolf-ay is like a raisin!” Everyone laughs, and I even chuckle about the personalized humor.
“Wolf-ay has become all wrinkled!”
“It happens!” I admit.
Three minutes later as the class is about to begin there is laughter by the white board at the front of the class. I know something is up. I didn’t graduate from high school with a 2.4 GPA because I was stupid, mind you! I gaze at the board as the students clear out of the way. Camm-ay has drawn two pictures with a dry erase marker. The first one is an oval shaped figure with two stick legs. The picture is labeled with the words “Young Wolf-ay!” The second picture is also an oval shaped figure, but a bit leaner with a few lines squiggled through it. It’s a raisin! And the name beside it is “Old Wolf-ay!”
I chuckle at their humor aimed lovingly at me. During the course of the day and since I’ve been referred to as “Old Wolf-ay” and “Raisin” quite often.
Even as I write this I’m picturing the drawings…and I’m still chuckling!
Categories: children, coaching, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, 7th Grade Science, 7th Graders, acronym, adolescents, Beowulf, getting shorter, middle school, middle school students, middle schoolers, nicknames, Old age, school, shrinking, substitute teacher, substitute teaching
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February 11, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. February 11, 2017
Five days with my dad…not a lot of time, but deeply meaningful.
I flew into the massive Charleston, West Virginia airport on Thursday afternoon. Dad came home from another time-share experience at St. Mary’s Hospital in Huntington the previous Tuesday evening. When I knocked on the door of his apartment at Wyngate Senior Living Complex, heard the invitation to come on in, I was taken back by the tubes he had in his nostrils receiving oxygen. He looked a bit frail and “dragged out”, as he would say!
We chatted about this, that, and the other, soothed by the ointment of each other’s presence. After an hour or so it was time to let him be for the night. We had seen each other after an absence of about eight months. It was almost like checking in on one another to make sure we were okay, and now we could sleep.
The next day when I walked into his apartment I was taken back again, but this time in a good way! He didn’t have the oxygen machine going. He looked like he was “with it”, the familiar smile authentic and inviting.
“How’d you sleep, Pops?”
“I slept like a baby! Went to bed about 10:30 and didn’t wake up until 5:30!” Seven hours! My dad hadn’t been able to sleep for seven hours straight since he was…was…was probably in his seventies! Getting all the body parts of an almost 89 year old body to cooperate at the same time is on the same scale as getting all of Congress to agree!
“That’s awesome, Dad!”
Well-rested conversation flows much better than dragged-out dialogue. We talked about new great-grandchildren and grandchildren, “remember when” moments and tall tales of previous aunts and uncles.
“Are you going to have lunch with me?”
“Sure! Are you going to eat in the dining room?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t ventured down the hallway to the dining room of the complex since he had come home from St. Mary’s. He grabbed his “hurry-cane” and we headed down towards the room of wisdom and crankiness.
The residents who had arrived before him recognized his re-emergence from his isolation. Smiles and greetings floated his way, and he made the rounds to each table hugging the widow ladies and shaking the hands of the few men scattered around. We sat with Chuck, who hears about as well as someone on one side of the Ohio River listening to conversation on the opposite bank. Dale joined us, parking his motorized scooter in a spot close to another. Navigating through the scooter and the walkers in the dining room was like driving through a Walmart parking lot! Chuck could walk, but not hear. Dale could hear, but not walk! Senior complexes are a pantry of can’s and “can’ts”!
Meeting Dale and Chuck, as well as others, opened up hours of shared stories from Dad. I learned once again about Carl, who had been born four miles from where Dad had been born in eastern Kentucky, and is a constant source of encouragement for Dad; and Leo, who had been at the same Navy basic training camp with Dad and Carl in Williamsburg, Virginia.
We revisited the story of Leo setting off the fire alarm about a year earlier because he was frying bacon in his apartment at 9:00 on a Friday night. We laughed about the possibility of motorized scooter races in the parking lot. We paused to remember Nellie, the lady who lived in the apartment next door, who Dad had taught to give herself insulin shots. Nellie had passed away a few months before.
Each day of my brief visit followed this path of remembrance and revelation. Super Bowl LI was the first Super Bowl my dad and I watched together. Awesome!
And then Monday night I said my goodbyes. His embrace contained strength and joy. It seemed as if each day had been a step of progression for him.
Whenever I say goodbye to my father I realize it could be our last visit, our last embrace, our last walk down the hallway…and I treasure the moments of the stroll!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized
Tags: a good night's sleep, Dad, elderly parents, fatherhood, fathers, grandfather, Old age, Pops, remembering, senior adults, senior folk, senior living, senior living complex, Seniors
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February 4, 2017
WORDS FROM W.W. February 4, 2017
My dad has had a January to forget. Two weeks in the hospital…one week home…and then back in the hospital for another week. He loved the nurses, but disliked the meatloaf.
So I had the opportunity to fly in for a few days and be with him. My dad turns 89 in about four months. He’s no spring chicken! In fact, his spring sprung a while ago. The times I’m able to come back to the southern tip of Ohio from the elevation of Colorado are special, deeply personal, and filled with shared stories.
Yesterday I walked with him down to the dining room of his senior adult apartment complex. A slow walk, but a steady walk. When he arrived he made the rounds, giving a hug to each of the women who, I swear, all initiated the embrace. He shook the hands of each man before setting down at a table with two of his peers, Leo and Dale. It was Dad’s first meal taken in the midst of the gathered “white hairs”, and it brought a sense of exhilaration to the 25 or so. He is loved and appreciated, always ready to give a warm word of greeting and an engaging question.
Then it was back to his apartment to sit and talk. Three days earlier I had “grandbaby-sat” for a two year old. Now I was “Dad-sitting” a man who was almost twenty-six when I was born!
We shared stories about teaching, his military service, Kentucky basketball, and all the nice nurses who cared for him at the hospital. Our conversation wound its way through the many rooms of our lives, one door leading towards the next one on the other side of the story.
I told him stories from my recent three-week teaching stint and the one student that I sent to have a chat with the assistant principal, and he told me about the student who he had a difficult time with when he was student teaching high school agricultural science.
We got on the topic of security guards at schools, banks, and other places, and he recalled the pre-security days at the Social Security Administration office he managed…the times when an irate citizen had to be calmed down simply with words, not a Taser gun!
We have a way in our culture of devaluing our older folks, minimizing their relevance and becoming deaf to their voices. Thankfully I’ve come to the point of seeing how treasured my life is because of the father I have. The occasions of “Dad-sitting” are dwindling, shared moments waning, and I breathe each one of them in as if they are my last sip on water in a long journey.
Tomorrow I’ll watch the Super Bowl with Dad. I can’t remember the last Super Bowl we watched together! It may actually be the first time we’ll share the moment. The game will become secondary to just being together. I’m sure we’ll laugh at some of the commercials and take bathroom breaks while Lady GaGa is being a spectacle. We’ll talk about the Cleveland Browns of the 60’s, the Ironton High School Fighting Tigers, and recall when my big brother came back from an away game that the Williamstown High School football team had played on a Friday night and said to Dad, “Look Dad! Real mud!”
We will simply sit and enjoy the moment. The depth of life is made from moments like these.
Categories: Death, Grandchildren, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: cherishing, Cleveland Browns, conversation, Dad, dads, elder care, elderly, elderly parents, enjoying each other, fathers, geriatric, grandparenting, grandparents, Growing old, Old age, respect, senior adults, senior citizens, senior living, Seniors
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August 2, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. August 2, 2016
It’s the morning after supervising the three grandchildren for ten hours. I’m feeling the effects!
First of all, there’s my speech pattern! I’m talking in one and two word phrases, and repeating them two or three times. For instance, I stood in front of the refrigerator this morning looking at the containers of orange and apple juice and saying to myself “Juice! Juice! Juice!” I said it non-audibly to my inner self, but I said it with the voice of my sixteen month old granddaughter.
The morning proceeded.
“Waffle! Waffle! Waffle!”
“Keys! Keys! Keys!”
“Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!”
I’m afraid I’ll carry this toddler stream of repetitive verbiage too far. How will Carol react when she comes home from an errand and I greet her with “Hi Wife! Hi Wife!”? Or what if I discover the Half-and-Half container at Starbucks is empty and I carry the container to the counter shouting “Cream! Cream! Cream!”? I may never be able to go back to that Starbucks where I’ve been seen as a responsible adult for the last several years.
Really! Really! Really!
I’m looking at Pike’s Peak right now and saying to myself “Big! Big! Big!” This afternoon when I lay down for a nap I just hope I don’t whine “Pac-i!” Pac-i! Pac-i!”, as in “pacifier!”
The second after effect is my body whining to me. My lower back is reminding me that I’m not a young man anymore. Every time the grand baby looked up at me and said “Up! Up! Up!”, I obliged. Is there rehab therapy for grandparents? My arm muscles feel like I’ve done a full weight training workout at the Y.M.C.A. Actually, it has just been a day of squat thrusts and arm curls with a twenty-two pound weight! I thought I would sleep soundly last night out of exhaustion, but instead I tossed and turned in pain. I’m hoping I have the strength to fix lunch!, lunch!, lunch! I’m now speaking to myself again and thinking of my massage therapist, Jackie Landers. “Massage! Massage! Massage!”
Finally, the third after effect is a different kind of feeling whatsoever. It’s a feeling…a realization of blessedness! In the midst of one word demands and tried muscles I know without a doubt that I am a blessed man, a graced granddad! As I wrote in a blog post a few days ago, I am in marvel of the little ones! They make me feel young at heart even as I feel the age of my body. I actually get a little emotional thinking about them.
Today is our five year old granddaughter Reagan’s first day of kindergarten. Jesse, our eight year old grandson starts third grade. They amaze me even as they cause me to need a nap. They have amazing parents who keep them grounded in the Word, on-course with figuring out what is appropriate and what isn’t, and immersed in unconditional love.
So even as my speech pattern has changed today and my body has gone south I wouldn’t change anything. To my heavenly Father I say the two words that the toddler does not repeat, but rather only says once as I hand her the sip cup full of juice.
“Thank you!”
Categories: children, Christianity, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: baby-sitting, being a grandfather, blessed, body ache, carrying kids, feeling blessed, grandchildren, granddad, grandfather, grandkids, grandparents, lower back pain, massage, nap time, napping, Old age, pacifier, Starbucks, toddlers, watching toddlers
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July 16, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. July 16, 2016
I’ve been watching a lot of the NBA Summer League games on TV this past week. New draft choices playing alongside D-League players and undrafted free agents, it is an entertaining experience. Next summer I’m thinking about going to Las Vegas with my son and taking in a few of the games being played.
Last night I watched some rim-rocking slams, long-distance threes, and running left hooks.
And then, feeling the energy, I went out in our driveway with “the rock”, as we call the basketball, and started shooting from the corner. I shoot from the corner in our driveway because it slopes down. It’s like an automatic ball return!
As I dribbled the ball and got into my shooting motion reality hit me! Reality came in the form of my right knee whining as it bent…and screamed as it started to unbend! It was the meeting of my mind with my knee and my knee won. Sixty-two year old knees that have run a few marathons, run thousands of miles on asphalt pavements with some of the old running shoes we used to wear, and played years and years of basketball, are knees that now succeed in daily coups against the rest of my body. I say “Let’s play some hoop down at the Y!” and my knees say “I don’t think so!” They are like stubborn octogenarians who refuse to drink their Ensures!
My life seems to have increasing times of false senses of reality. What I envision happening gets a revised plan. It’d like a teenager about to get his first car. He searches the internet web sites, looking at Camaro’s, Jeeps, BMW’s, high-powered Mustangs, and man-sized trucks, and then his parents present him with a gift-wrapped Ford Escort with strips of duct tape on it in different places.
Dreams…expectations…assumptions…and then there comes the reality!
My dream is to slam dunk! My reality is that you can now barely fit one piece of typing paper under my feet when I elevate. The positive however is that it doesn’t take me nearly as long to return to the ground.
Our lives are filled with what we think and what is real.
Remember a time in your growing up years when you had a crush on a certain person and you believed the attraction was mutual. Perhaps you even envisioned in your mind those walks in the park when you would be holding hands, embracing in the shadows of the front porch where parents could not see…and then the reality coming in the form of information that there wasn’t a mutual attraction, and, in fact, you were to leave the other person alone. Stay away! Sometimes reality is like getting slapped in the face with the end of a wet towel that snaps you.
Those are moments in our lives that, plain and simple, just suck!
My knees are just one indication, one painful reminder, that things change. Life is a journey of adjustments. Those adjustments come through afflictions as well as learnings. They come as a result of years of doing something that has left us weary and disillusioned; and they come as we experience the cresting of a new hill that shows us something completely new that we might consider attempting.
Most of us have visited that false sense of reality at one time or another. It comes in a job performance evaluation, or a frank conversation with a trusted friend. It is often hard to hear.
Back to my knees! I shot a few shots, listened to a few internal knee screams, and then went back to the couch. My right knee especially said “This is where you belong!”
I sighed and then watched a 22 year old do a reverse slam dunk on TV!
Categories: children, Death, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: a false sense of reality, ambitions, Basketball, D-League, dreams, driveway basketball, Ensure, false reality, hopes, knee problems, NBA Summer League, Old age, old knees, realistic expectations, reality, shooting baskets
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May 25, 2016
WORDS FROM W.W. May 25, 2016
Just when life seems to be less complicated, procedures dot the schedule that make me bite my fingernails. I’m sitting in a waiting room of a medical building where Carol is having a colonoscopy. Oh joy!
She has informed me that I’m next! I heard it kind of like when the school secretary at Victory Heights Elementary In Winchester, Kentucky, told me I was next in the line of condemned students to see Mr. Sterling, the school principal with a strong forehand. I had thrown wet paper towels in the school restroom the previous day…and been caught! A night of no sleep had preceded my waiting room experience. I had tried to feign sickness that morning at home to no avail, kind of like trying to find a reason for canceling a colonoscopy!
Now Carol was looking at me like I had late homework that i was trying to turn in.
“You’re next!” her eyes shouted.
“ But what if I don’t wanta’!”
Not a safe and healthy response. As Carol goes through her procedure, refusing to have one myself is not an option.
As we age life takes on a different kind of “complicated” to it. I played basketball with the boys on my seventh grade team a couple of days ago. As I climbed the steps from the school gym on the lower level back to the man floor my right knee protested. “Protests” by various parts of my body seem to be as numerous as protestors at Trump and Clinton rallies. Acid reflux protests against the spaghetti with meat sauce I ate for lunch; my back protests at the bags of weed and feed I carried in; my teeth protest against the Enstrom’s almond toffee candy that I love to bite down on; and my bladder protests the amount of coffee I consumed, but then I’m the victim of a conspiracy protest as I stand at the urinal and can’t…you know!
Life is going down a different aisle of crowded and congested nowadays. When I was pastoring it seemed that each day was filled with appointments, deadlines, visits, meetings, and mad rushes. I longed for quiet moments and an empty schedule. Now many of my days are filled with…the complication of no complications. That means, I have so many possibilities of how the day might proceed, so many books that could be read, people that I’’m thinking about seeing, projects that I’m thinking about beginning…that I sometimes get frustrated for not achieving any of the possibilities. Dinnertime arrives and I shake my head over the fact that I wasted the day.
Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy the freedom of retirement, but I’m still adjusting to the life schedule changes. When you pastor for a long, long time everything revolves around it. Transitioning from ministry, many days, feels like trading in our Honda for a Schwinn (Do they still makes Schwinn bikes?). It’s a different pace that requires a different kind of energy.
Mondays used to be my day off. Now Monday is the day after Sunday, which has been the day…twice a month, I’ve preached at a small church forty-five minutes away from us. It used to be that Monday was my day of recovery from a week of ministry before starting the next week of ministry. Now Monday is the day I don’t need to recover. It’s the day I go to Starbucks at 7:15 in the morning, sit in my favorite seat at the end of the counter that looks out at Pike’s Peak, and write for a couple of hours as I drink a few cups of Pike Place…and then endure the protests at the urinal!
The complications of an uncomplicated life!
Carol is now out of her procedure and is giving me the look…the “You’re next look!” Ugh!
Categories: children, Christianity, Death, Freedom, Humor, marriage, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: aced reflux, aching body parts, aching joints, Aging, back problems, colonoscopy, complications, conspiracy, Engstrom's almond coffee, Kentucky, life transitions, medical procedures, Mondays, Old age, Pike Place coffee, protests, school principal, Schwinn, Starbucks, Starbucks coffee, Victory Heights Elementary, Winchester
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November 30, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 30, 2015
I’m having more senior moments…like when I was looking for my keys and two minutes later I discovered I was holding them in my left hand…senior moments like that.
But I also enjoy senior moments. Or, put another way, moments shared with seniors. My congregation has some incredible senior folk who are a part of it. They are the most caring, unconditional love-based, surprising group that I’ve had the privilege to pastor. They genuinely support one another, offer to help with rides, call on the phone to someone who doesn’t show up at their group gatherings.
Four of them are now in their nineties, and, although the effects of age are slowing them down, they are people of incredible faith and depth. Yesterday, a cold and snowy Sunday, none of them were able to be at worship and there was something missing. Worship isn’t a choice for them. It’s a commitment, and when they can’t come it is almost always because they are sick, are afraid of falling on ice or the snow, in the hospital, or out of town.
Another of the senior couples delight me with their humor and giving spirit. I am always blessed to be in the same room with them. The wife’s laugh is contagious and joy-filled. the husband’s stories are filled with wit that result in chuckles.
A retired military man and his wife grace me with their friendship. Even though we are not necessarily on the same page politically they are two people who give to others in sacrificial ways. The wife has a heart of gold that causes her to become emotional as she talks about the ordeals that others are going through. The husband serves every Sunday in some way, whether it be transporting one of the seniors or ushering and greeting people.
There’s an African-American lady who is like my “Black Mom!” in fact, I call her “Mom” from time to time. She gives me “instruction”, just like my mom did, prays for me, gives me “the look” just like my mom did. Wisdom and exhortation from her guide me in my journey.
There’s a lady who was a baker. She kneaded the doe for bread and cinnamon rolls. Her love went into each of her baked goods. Now she “kneads” the pains and heartaches of others each day in her prayers. Like working the doe, she works the words of her prayer for the sorrows of others. Her foundations are prayer and scripture.
There’s another lady who is the group guardian. She sometimes senses the indecision of the group and says “Here’s what we’re going to do!” She senses when someone doesn’t want to impose on anyone else, and tells the the person that things will be taken care of. She’s the Joshua in a group of Jack and Jills.
Another lady, who is on the younger end of the seniors, has a gentle spirit, an attitude of grace, and the heart of a servant. A widow, she has encountered her share of sorrow, and knows the journey that many of our senior folk are on.
There’s another woman who moved here a few years ago from another state. She volunteers whenever there is a need…at the local school, for Wednesday night dinners, giving out food to those in need, making quilts and clothing. The last few months have been hard for her as her health has taken some hits. She does not have a high opinion of doctors, but has a very high opinion and love for the woman just mentioned before her.
A widower who has started coming to our group recently is my razor…and also someone I razz. We feel very comfortable giving soft jabs to one another. I had his wife’s funeral a few years ago. She was killed by a drunk driver. Pain and sorrow have punctuated his world, and this group of seniors keeps him anchored and cared for.
Another woman who is fairly new to the group makes the best cookies I’ve ever eaten. In her mid-eighties she has a smile that would like up a cereal box and a warmth that is accepting of others.
Another couple are like Aquila and Priscilla, serving in ways that do not make headlines, but needed. The man has become the best friend of another guy who has endured a life of disappointment and heartache. These two are people who are gifts from God, people who “come alongside” someone in need.
And then there is a transplanted Buckeye who is in the midst of jubilation this week for his college team’s victory over Michigan. He imparts his wisdom to me, and encouragement for decisions made and sermons preached. His emails are always in capital letters. In fact, if they were capitalized I would instantly know someone had pretended to be him.
So many blessings! So much enjoyment that has come into my life from folk who have traveled the journey of life.
As I enter my last month as their pastor I know…i know…I know that I have been greatly blessed!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: blessings, caring, elderly people, Encouragement, humor, Joshua, ninety year olds, Old age, senior adults, senior folk, Seniors, servant, serving, supporting, supportive, widow, widower, wisdom
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November 22, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. November 22, 2015
Our youngest daughter…our baby!!!…Lizi moved with her husband, Mike, from Albuquerque to Colorado Springs this weekend. Carol and I psyched up our 61 year old bodies and helped them load up and unload the U-Haul truck. We were more than happy to do that! This morning we are feeling every box…every piece of furniture…every floor scrubbed…and toilet cleaned! (Okay! I didn’t clean the toilet, but I did use it!)
We helped them get it done…and now will gladly help pay for Two Men and A Truck to help them with their next move, whenever that is!
God gives us muscles to get things done, and sometimes he gives us older muscles to remind us there are certain things we should no longer do.
Today I’m feeling what is left of my biceps. I don’t remember this feeling when Carol and I were moving into our first home back in 1979, or when I moved all of my possessions into my seminary apartment all by myself.
Today my lower back reminds me of our closet door that squeaks every time you open or close it. The squeak sounds strangely like it is saying “Leave me alone!”
My feet feel like they’ve run a marathon! the best thing I can say about my neck pain is that it let’s me know it is still there.
My fingers hurt! My eyebrows ache!
I’m soaking in muscle ointment!
But that’s okay! You do things for family and friends that border on lunacy. I’d much rather move a couch than decorate a cake. I’m prefer moving china rather then going on a shopping trip to buy it.
Coincidentally Carol and I signed our wills Friday morning. In case I dropped the china as I was dropping dead we were legally clear as to what was to happen. Comforting thought!
Today is Sunday…a day of rest and Ben Gay! Two days from now I’ll return to the illusion that I’m twenty again!
Categories: children, Death, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: back pain, being 61, Ben Gay, making a move, moving, moving furniture, muscle ointment, muscles, Old age, sore muscles, Two Men and A Truck, U-Haul truck
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September 23, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. September 23, 2015
There is a young man on my middle school football team that jokes around with me everyday…and I mean everyday…at practice. We jab one another with teases and witty words. He really is a nice young man, and his main focus of kidding with me is my age. He comes at me from a “can you hear me” angle, from a “can you still run” poke, and, in recent days, my hair.
He’s right! In recent times my hair is getting more and more populated by gray. My scalp is starting to resemble a lawn trying to fight off the dandelions and crabgrass! The mirror that I stand in front of early in the morning has a deceptive light to it. I can’t really see the gray! Someone should market a mirror like that. It could be sold right next to the wrinkle cream!
Just as autumn is beginning to change the colors, the gray is coming to my highest personal point.
“How do I feel about that?” you ask.
I’m okay with it. It makes me realize that I haven’t taken a roadside rest from the journey of life. A friend of mine recently got his driver’s license renewed and they changed his hair color from brown to gray on the license. I’ve still got four years before that happens…since I just renewed about six months ago when the brown was still the dominant citizen of my head. (Although my license picture looks like I’m being booked for the county jail!)
Gray is okay! And I’m not going to try to avoid it. I’ve been fortunate. A few times I’ve had to show my license (Yes, the one where I look dazed and confused!) in order to get the senior citizen rate for a meal! It’s the other end of being “carded”, the one where you smile as you flip out the ID!
The more important question for me is how do I feel internally? How old do I feel in my spirit? How am I caring for my soul? What troubles me in the world, and in the church, is the amount of attention that gets paid to the outer shell and minimal reflection on my inner journey. When my spirit experiences the gray then I must step back and evaluate.
I’m recognizing periods of crankiness in my life. I’m usually not that way…ask my wife! When that “grump” appears it causes me to ponder what is going on. It’s a sign that I’m unsettled and usually means I need to get alone with God and have a little “Come to Jesus” session with him!
Scripture tells us that outer gray is a positive. Proverbs 16:31 says “Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.”
So…although I am cognizant of when I’m having spiritually gray periods, I’ll take some comfort in the fact that I’m weaving a crown on my head. My wife, Carol, might spoil the moment and say that I’ve already got a crown…it’s that bare spot on top of my scalp that I can’t see in the mirror!
The cruelty of truth!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Death, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, aging process, Gray, gray hair, mature looking, Old age, Proverbs 16:31, self-care, the inner self, wrinkle cream
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June 30, 2015
WORDS FROM W.W. June 29, 2015
People say I’m not old, but I bet if I went to a swing dance party no one under fifty would be hoping I’d ask them for a dance. I’m married anyway, and I’m not sure what “swing dance” means. “Swing” is something my four year old granddaughter asks me to give her a push with.
So a lot of people humor me with sympathetic looks attached to words like, “Ohhh…you’re not old!”
Actually I’m two-thirds gone! And that’s if I live to 92!
So now I’m in the muttering stages of my life. I mutter to myself! I mutter questions to myself that don’t need to be answered.
Why can’t the newspaper delivery person hit the driveway with the morning toss? How can they hit the pile of snow that’s about three feet wide with the paper, but miss the thirty foot stretch of concrete? Of course, the yearly renewal notice comes in May…after I’ve forgotten about those frustrations!
Why do people pay fifty bucks to get dirty running a 5K race? Back in college we went out in front of the dorm and played football in the mud…for free! Why do people pay fifty dollars to get color thrown on them? I can lay down on the deck and have my grandchildren use me for a marking board…once again, for free!
Why does my bedtime seem to get earlier and earlier…and yet as soon as I lay my head on the pillow I’m wide awake?
Why do people in sporty cars with tinted windows think other cars are like orange cones on a race course? Strictly there to weave in and out of!
Why does my next door neighbor’s barbecuing smell so tantalizing, but I can’t seem to make any kind of meat smell good? Why doesn’t my next-door neighbor realize how unfair his cooking aromas are for the rest of us?
Why do people rush to get on a plane? If I’m sitting in 22A does it matter if I get on the plane in the first batch or the last? Speaking of planes, why can’t we have the little bags of pretzels again? Why do the airlines give coffee in 6 ounce cups but Coke in a 12 ounce can? What’s up with that?
Why are my toes so ugly? My feet look like they went through six hours of prep and make-up for a horror movie! It looks like I have painted toenails distributed unequally amongst my ten toes.
Why do my ears look like they have crabgrass growing out of them? Good Lord! I’m thinking about sprinkling them with Weed-B-Gone!
Why do dogs seem to think 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. are appropriate times to start barking? That causes me to mutter to myself while I’m still lying in bed…still trying to sleep! But, of course, that 6 a.m. bark alarm wakes up my bladder…and it ain’t going back to sleep!
Oh! And here’s one more that I’m still muttering about! I got one of those print-out coupons at King Soopers that said I could get a free…I say it again…free Starbucks “Refreshers” drink that comes in a can. So I went looking for my free can…and guess what? They don’t have it! The store employee who was very gracious and kind wasn’t even sure they carried it! Wait a minute! I have a coupon for a free one, but they don’t carry it!
Would that cause you to mutter to yourself?
Categories: Death, Humor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: airline seating, barbecue smell, cynical, laughter, muttering, Old age, old men, pretzels, questions
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Words from WW Blog 