The Truth About Aging

The Truth about Aging

I’ve always had strong hands, even bigger than most of those around me. With the ability to grip things tightly and throw my shoulders into the effort, I could pop open the top of any pesky container. I have long arms, big hands, and even longer fingers. Those fingers reach an octave and a half, if you can imagine. Lately, Uncle Arthur (arthritis) has kept my hands aching most of the time. Finger joints. Knuckles. The base of my thumb. It’s getting difficult to imagine there was a time when my hands were full of strength.

Uncle Arthur has not affected my keyboard skills yet, and I’m praying he never thinks about it.

Around 12 years of age, I got hit with a slung baseball bat by a teammate who hit deeply in the outfield, and he was ready to round the bases. It was an after-school practice game. That right knee has carried me, but often painfully, until surgery in 2018 that was sure to take care of it. Right? No! It took out the torn meniscus, but the knee damage is done. I’m sure there’s more surgery in my future.

That car accident in May 2021 created back strains that I’m still not quite over. X-rays, MRIs, Physical Therapy, and a specialist or two later. I cannot even remember life without an ache. Surely there was a time!

Throw in a pandemic scare, and I wonder about life when I finally reach my ’70s!

Thankful, I Am

“I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”
~Helen Keller

I’m around people daily who have life worse than I do. I’m not a complainer. Only, I’m learning afresh how to deal with the aches and pains of age. It used to be I could go all day, sleep, and go all day again. Not now. I’m finding the joy of restraint. Life does not have to go, go, go! It’s not that I’m ready for the rocking chair, but two weeks ago, my bride and I enjoyed the front porch with a small fire pit, joyfully sharing its warmth and a good cup of coffee to pass the afternoon.

If I Were A Rich Man, Performed by Chiam Topol in “The Fiddler on the Roof.”

If I were a rich man
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
All day long, I’d biddy biddy bum
If I were a wealthy man
I wouldn’t have to work hard
Ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum
If I were a biddy biddy rich yidle-diddle-didle-didle man

If I were a rich man, I’d be willing to pay others to do things that are getting more difficult to do. If I lived by family, then perhaps I’d have some younger guys step in and help when the aches get the best of me. It seems I’ve been on the giving end of these wishes by those who have gone on before me. How often have I helped someone move, rebuild a roof or motor, do yard work, or feed the animals? Even just standing there to hand a wrench… Often.

What’s hard about asking for help? It’s hard to ask for help.

Fortunately, I have my next younger brother, who’s not in any better shape than I am, but he loves to do. I imagine he would have been the tinkerer of a by-gone era! So, we do it together. He’ll be here in a couple of weeks! Barn doors, lean-to, and a couple of other projects! He calls it a vacation!

Don’t Forget Why We Are Here

Life is not about wasting time but investing our valuable resources to accomplish our talent. What we have been given to do should not be hidden away until the day of reckoning (Matthew 25:14-30)

Imagine if Stephen W. Hawking thought about his handicaps and was just willing to give up? Hide his talents away and never share what his mind was capable of thinking.

My maladies do not limit what I’m given as a talent to accomplish. Brain? Keep on working! Hands? Keep on typing! Voice? Personality? Ministry? Keep on, keeping on, no matter the struggles.

That’s why I’m here.