Getting older blows

Earlier in the week I mentioned my poor mental health while stating I was in top physical condition.  That is not entirely true.  I am getting older and things I could once do I can do no longer.  I can’t workout as hard and function as a human being the next day.  I can’t demonstrate certain wrestling moves without contorting my face into a mask of pain.  I can’t break into a sprint without three and a half hours of warming up unless I want to pull a muscle.  Diving for a ball while playing sports still occurs to me, but by the time I’ve done my belly flop the ball has gone by and by the time I lift my carcass from the ground the play is over.  Not only do I have physical limitations, but my body is changing.  I have lumps where no lumps previously existed.  I’m beginning to see wrinkles.  Thankfully I’m not losing my hair, but if I were it might be ok because I could comb over the hair that has started growing on top of my ears.  Getting older blows.

I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t grow old like William Nolan and George Johnson did in their 1967 novel Logan’s Run in which people “voluntarily” were put to death at age 21 (in the movie version the age was graciously changed to 30) to conserve resources and to keep the world from over-populating.  I guess what I’m getting at is we shouldn’t let ourselves be defined by our vitality.  Our sense of worth needs to come from something other than what we look like, what we can do, what we think—all things that can be taken from us in a heartbeat.  Maybe it is because I am losing my vitality, but I’ve really been thinking a lot lately what it means to be a child of God.  I may not be able to lift heavy weights or play short stop or think deeply about matters, but I will always be a child of God.  My value is being me to a loving Creator.  Now that is a thought that makes a grandpa smile.