I must confess I sometimes get so busy that certain things have slipped my mind. I don’t do this intentionally, but I try to prioritize things in my life.
With so many things going on, it is tough to keep up-to-date with everything, even personal items.
This is not true with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. No matter how busy her day is, she always keeps up with everything. She knows things that are happening a week before they actually happen. How she does that, I don’t know, and trust me, I am not going to inquire.
I just ask her if I want to know something, and I get the latest on everything. So, why should I waste my time trying to keep up with everything?
Maybe I should take her to the horse races this week and ask her today who’s going to win.
Looking at my driver’s license, I believe I have a birthday coming up this month. I’m not sure exactly which one it is, but someone in our residence will inform me of that information when it comes time.
I like to keep up with some things in the news, which is really hard these days because every day it changes. Particularly among politicians. What they say one day is the exact opposite of what they’re going to say the next day. I guess that’s what keeps them in office.
If a politician told the truth two days in a row, their pants would catch on fire.
I don’t take anything seriously, like politics and so forth. But, once you focus on something and become very serious about it, it changes.
Like my computer and it’s programs, as soon as I understand one program and know how it works, it is updated, and I have to start all over again. I’m tempted to go back to that antique called The Typewriter.
Change is not my modus operandi. I like things to stay the way they are. I haven’t even bought a pair of new pants for several decades. Why buy a new pair when the old pair works just fine? The same with shirts.
Then something happened this past week that changed my thoughts along this line.
The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage found an old box of photographs from when we were first married. When I saw our wedding picture, I wondered who that young couple was getting married.
My wife informed me that that was us on our wedding day.
Then I went through a bunch of other photographs, and noticed something that, in a way, alarmed me.
I’m not easily alarmed, but sometimes something happens or doesn’t happen that causes me some concern.
As I look at these pictures of myself, I noticed something strange. I had lots of hair!
I don’t like to take photographs of myself or have others do it to me. Most of these pictures were taken without me realizing that they were taking a picture of me. Why anybody would want a picture of me, especially me, is beyond my calculation.
I stared at one photograph for a while, and my wife said, “What are you looking at?”
Not wanting to expose my thoughts at the time, I just said, “I’m just looking at this picture.”
Of course, as is always the case, she knew there was a little more than that.
“Okay,” she said, “come clean with me. What are you really looking at?”
The choice was simple, either come clean with her or face this question for the rest of my life.
I nervously cleared my throat, coughed several times, blew my nose and then said, “I noticed that I had a lot of hair back in that day. Whatever happened to my hair?”
When she stopped laughing, which I did not see to be funny, she said, “You got older, and your hair couldn’t put up with you getting old.”
I involuntarily chuckled, but I wasn’t really serious about chuckling.
When I looked in the mirror later, I discovered a lot of hair that did not show up for my mirror time. Trying to cover up the hairless spots on my head, I finally had to give up. I did not have enough hair to make up for those hairless spots.
It took me quite a while to come to terms with this. I never even noticed through the years that my hair was disappearing. My new identity came as a shock to me.
Thinking about that, I began to wonder what else have I not noticed that has changed in my life? I do not know where to start.
The only change I really like is the change in my pocket. Outside of that, I’m not a fan of change. Surely there comes a time when there’s no more need for change.
I’m completely happy with the way things are right now. I don’t want to lose any more hair. I don’t want to gain any more weight. Surely, I don’t need any more wrinkles.
I guess this is the cost of investing in old age.
While brooding over the subject, I ran across a verse of Scripture. “The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the grey head” (Proverbs 20:29).
Looking in the mirror again, I noticed my hair was indeed grey. If God thinks my grey head is beautiful, why should I think anything different?